Ruin
by Team Damon
Summary: From the moment his emerald green eyes first beheld her, he knew he'd have her. It was not a question of if, but merely how and when. And he would be the one to decide both. Pre-Thor, Loki/OC
1. Chapter 1

From the first moment his emerald green eyes first beheld her, he knew he'd have her. It was not a question of if, but merely how and when. And he would be the one to decide both.

She had been given the great honor of singing for the court during one of Odin's great feasts, where those of the most noble stock would be present and fixing their eyes and ears to her. It surprised him that he didn't already know her name - how had this maiden escaped his notice?

But, it seemed, very few around him knew of her identity, either. He sat with his family at the most gilded, extravagant table in all of the palace's Great Hall, between his mother and brother, and narrowed his eyes slightly as this mysterious woman stood at the very center of the vast hall and opened her mouth. No instruments accompanied her as she began singing the first notes to a song he also didn't recognize, and all of the hall became utterly silent and transfixed at the sound of her voice.

Well, mostly.

"Brother," Thor nudged Loki's side, hissing in his ear. "Who is this maiden?"

"I know not," he replied, his voice and face a cool mask of disinterest.

"She is most fair," Thor continued. "I must introduce myself tonight."

Loki tried not to roll his eyes. A glance towards other tables showed Fandral positively drooling over the singer as her voice washed over the halls, and most other men were in much the same condition, even some of the married ones. That wasn't surprising - these feasts were often nothing more than an excuse for the nobles to drink excessively and philander to their heart's desire, and this poor girl likely had no idea that she was merely a lamb in a lion's den. If she escaped the claws of the noblemen, she would only have to then fight off Thor and Fandral, and for reasons beyond Loki's comprehension, few maidens cared to refuse them. He made sure to snatch up those few that did.

She was dressed in a flowing gown of violet, her dark locks swept up in an intricate design on her head, and though her face was the picture of calm - eyes closed and red lips parted invitingly as she sang - he saw her fingers occasionally twitch as her hands moved with her notes. She was petrified, as anyone in her position would be, singing for the King and his court, but she was doing an impressive job of not letting it show.

"She is quite the singer, don't you agree, brother?" Thor's voice buzzed in his ear yet again.

"Quite. Not that I could tell with you constantly talking in my ear."

"_Thor, Loki_," Queen Frigga hissed under her breath, instantly silencing her sons. "Do not be inconsiderate. And her name is Aemilia."

_Aemilia_. Loki thought the delicate name suited the girl rather well.

When her song drew to a close, he watched as the tension left her shoulders with the relief of the end being near. Her final note was the most impressive, drawn out and perfectly executed, then punctuated with the rousing applause of each person in the hall. Her eyes finally opened then, and a smile broke across her face as she visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

He smirked a little, his own hands clapping dutifully, and he ignored the overly enthusiastic clapping of his brother beside him. Thor had all the subtlety of a bilgesnipe in heat. He knew nothing of a light, stolen touch, or a softly spoken word whispered into a waiting ear, and certainly nothing of a seductive look that could cut through a room and leave its intended recipient with a racing heart and flushed cheeks. Loki did, however, and when Aemilia's eyes met his from across the hall, he knew she wouldn't fall prey to his brother's fumbling hands. She would be his before the night was over.

The festivities then commenced, and the Great Hall filled with the loud and jovial voices of Asgard's finest citizens as they feasted upon the finest food and ale in all the realm. Thor's voice boomed through the hall as he and the Warrior's Three began their usual mind-numbingly repetitive tales of battle that Loki could now recite from heart, and he knew his brother's routine quite well by now - whenever Thor found a new object of interest, he first poured an entire cask of ale down his throat before attempting to seduce the maiden, because as brave a warrior as he was, he occasionally needed the aid of liquid courage to woo a female. It normally didn't matter, because the women he bedded had usually had their fair share of drink as well, and all in all, Loki thought it remarkable that Thor could ever remember his conquests clearly enough to torture him the following days with his horrifyingly detailed accounts of them.

But, Loki's well-timed glances to Aemilia further proved her different from those around her. Like Loki himself, she sipped slowly from a goblet of wine, and conversed quietly with several other women, including the Lady Sif. He would look away before their eyes could meet again, but he would feel her eyes upon him every so often as the night progressed. He knew she felt rather than saw his gaze as well.

He watched as the vultures eventually descended upon her. Intoxicated noblemen came first, and she politely but firmly sent them on their way. Around this time, Odin and Frigga retired from the party, which meant all restraint was about to be forgotten entirely on the part of most in attendance. This is when Loki would usually leave as well, not particularly interested in watching drunkards slobber all over each other and make fools of themselves, but this was one of the rare times where he had a reason to stay.

He leaned against a column, invisible to the others by a simple spell, and watched as Fandral made his move on the young singer. She only took a moment or two to decline his invitation to his quarters - he also lacked subtlety, but Loki credited him for his honesty and focus - and Loki couldn't resist the chance to further place a damper on the warrior's night. With a slight twist of his hand, the back of Fandral's treasured blonde hair began smoking before catching fully on fire, and Loki grinned as he ran to a table and shrieked before dumping ale on his head to put out the flame.

"Loki!" the soaked warrior growled, looking angrily around the room. "I know that was you! You'll pay, you sniveling little -"

Fandral was silenced by Thor, who clapped him on the back and laughed the incident off. Loki crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes as his brother then turned to Aemilia.

Unsurprisingly, Aemilia spoke to Thor much longer than she'd bothered with Fandral. Thor was, after all, the heir to Odin's throne, and as loathe as he was to admit it, even mildly intoxicated, Thor was utterly infectious. There was no denying his charisma and innate likeability.

But, as he'd anticipated, Aemilia eventually excused herself, and began to make her way out of the crowd. Loki followed, still invisible to others, and when he found her on one of the many balconies dotting the outside of the palace, he removed the spell with a swipe of his hand and watched the girl take a deep breath of the cool night air.

He stayed there for a moment, lingering in the doorway, giving her some time to herself. She seemed to need a moment or two. When he did finally speak, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"The darkness of the night suits you, my lady."

He wasn't lying. The light of Asgard's moons made her look almost ethereal, and now that he was closer, he could see that her hair was not fully brown as he first thought, but had bits of red throughout it. Very interesting for an Asgardian, he thought as she jumped and half-squeaked at his presence.

She turned around quickly and smiled to cover up her surprise. "Your Grace," she bowed quickly. "Forgive me."

"For what?" he asked, stepping closer to her, examining her eyes more closely. Mostly green, with a small ring of brown around them. Different. "I interrupted you, did I not?"

"It is no interruption," she replied politely.

He glanced out into the night, the dark horizon visible from a distance as the sky grew ever darker. He approached the railing, placing himself next to the girl, and turned his eyes back to her as he spoke. "You sang beautifully."

"Thank you, my Prince," she said, still in the same polite tone.

"I've not heard your name before tonight," Loki said, watching as she seemed to grow a bit more nervous with each word he spoke.

"You wouldn't have," she shrugged lightly. "I am not overly fond of things such as these."

Loki smiled. "You mean to tell me that a young maiden could find a large gathering of drunken, sloppy men to be distasteful? How is this possible?"

She grinned at that, her eyes fixed on the night sky. "It was an honor to sing for the court. I just... do not care much for what follows."

"Perhaps I can have a hand in changing that."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his then, and her shiver was nearly palpable when she saw the way he was looking at her. He wasn't leering, but his intent was clear by the strength of his gaze. Subtlety, he told himself.

"You set fire to the warrior's hair," she said. "It's true then, what they about you. 'Master of Magic'."

"Oh yes," he confirmed with a small smirk. "Many things that are said about me are true. What else have you heard, my lady?"

"Only some of the names that people sometimes refer to you as."

"Such as?"

He watched as a faint blush crept on her pale cheeks, and a second or two passed before she answered quietly, "Silvertongue." She said it almost as if she were uttering an obscenity unfit for a lady's lips, and this delighted Loki greatly.

"Why does a simple mention of my tongue make you blush, Aemilia?"

"It doesn't," she argued weakly, suddenly appearing rather uncomfortable.

"Your lovely rose-colored cheeks say differently," Loki pointed out, running the backs of his fingers over her cheeks for emphasis. She held her breath at the contact. "I wonder why that is."

She shrank away slightly from his touch, but she did it with a little smile on her face. "My Prince -"

"Loki," he corrected gently. "I care not for formalities at the present time."

She blinked, still smiling slightly. His body had been turned towards hers since he brushed her cheek, and there was precious little space between them now. If she took a deep breath, she was sure that her chest would brush his. "It would seem that you do not." She took a small breath and added quietly, "Loki."

He smiled lightly when she said his name, thinking only of how he'd prefer she say it louder and in the privacy of his own room. Or maybe in one of the hidden palace pathways that only he knew of. He leaned towards her, dipping his head down to accommodate their height difference, and before his lips could touch any part of her skin, she turned away from him. He couldn't see the tiny smile on her face as he found himself staring at her back.

"You seem to be rather accustomed to getting what you want," she observed, walking to the balcony's railing as he followed her silently. One of her hands grasped the top of the rail before one of his came to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes," he replied simply. It was true, he rarely was denied what he truly wanted. He thought briefly of Thor and the announcement that he would be ascending to the throne soon, but he didn't particularly covet the throne himself. With the throne came restrictions and expectations that Loki couldn't begin to make himself care about. He would have liked to at least have been considered rather than utterly overlooked in favor of his brother, but tonight was not about that particular slight. He wouldn't waste his moments thinking on it when there were far more interesting things to spend his thoughts on.

He slid a lone finger under a strap of her gown - not sliding it down or moving it, just letting his skin touch hers, and he felt her tense slightly. He then pushed gently on her shoulder, turning her around, and he saw the glimmer of excitement in her eyes when they met his. His other hand rose, the tips of his fingers tilting her chin up just before he leaned down and began the real game with a kiss.

He began it slowly, the kiss a mere brush of his lips against her fuller, slightly parted ones, then deepened it before she had a chance to react. Holding her cheeks with both hands now, he dipped her further back and tasted her mouth with his tongue, feeling her become utterly pliant in his arms as he gave her but a small taste of his skills. He'd almost hoped that she would have resisted more - he did love a challenge.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her body to his as he coaxed a quiet little moan from her throat with his kiss, a jolt running through him at the sound. He pulled away only to get a breath and savor the flush of her skin before he prepared to vanish them to his chambers. She might not have spoken the words, but her body language was consent enough for what he knew they both wanted.

But as he went to kiss her once more, one of her slim fingers pressed against his lips and stopped him. He looked at her blankly as she smiled and all but purred, "Do you know what I've learned in my short years, my Prince?"

He couldn't say that he particularly cared, but he humored her. "What is that, Aemilia?"

She smiled. "That we do not always get what we want."

She then disentangled herself from his arms and gave him a rather self-satisfied bow before walking away. Loki watched, dumbfounded, before his outrage kicked in.

He'd never been so overtly led on and rejected before. It made no sense - he knew he'd not misread the signs that she'd been giving off. She had clearly desired more than a few kisses on a terrace, and yet now she was gone, with parting words that had been clear in their taunting.

She was gone by the time he emerged to look for her, as he knew she would be. He ignored Thor's drunken questioning of what had him looking so sour as he trudged off to his rooms, leaving the party behind for good. Somewhere along the way, he realized that he actually couldn't be happier with the turn of events. This Aemilia was every bit as different from other maidens as he'd suspected, and now he would chase her - though not in the way that another man would.

He would hide in plain sight, hidden from her eyes by his magic as he watched her, studied her, learned exactly what it was about this girl that made her think she could tease the prince of Asgard. He would wait for his moment, and then he would slip out of the shadows, and take what should have been his tonight. And she wouldn't scamper away with a smile on her face when he did - no, she would be too busy screaming his name and falling apart underneath him to do anything but simply be his.

He was grinning absently to himself in the wake of his plan as he undressed for the night, his attention stolen only by the feeling of a strange object in one of his pockets. He pulled the thing out to discover that it was a hairpin, one that had a jeweled flower on the end of it. He turned it over in his hand, a different sort of grin crossing his lips when he realized that not only did this girl purposefully tease him - she _wanted_ him to pursue her, and had even left this little thing on his person to encourage him.

He was going to enjoy this far too much.

* * *

Sometimes, he thought that she knew he was watching her. She would search out the shadows with her lovely green and brown eyes as she went about her day, and he would simply smirk to himself. She was a fascinating little creature to watch.

Her parents were nobility, so she wanted for nothing. She spent her days training her voice with one of the most respected singers in the realm, and then would also spend hours at the theater, apparently preparing for a production that she was playing a part in. When she was at home, she divided her time between her parents and her own room, where she would sit at a desk near her window and write until the night grew late.

She was not yet betrothed, but her father was in the process of finding her an appropriate suitor. In the meantime, she simply lived her life, and Loki could almost envy her. She spent her days smiling, singing, acting, and whatever else she cared to do. He knew that would surely change once she was married, and it almost made him sad to think it. Hers wasn't a spirit meant to be suppressed or tame, but it would be if she married a typical Asgardian man.

Loki knew he had a penchant for obsession - it was just rarely roused enough to warrant actual use. It felt exhilarating to have her in his focus, something to take away from the monotony of his days, and something that was his and his alone. Sometimes Thor would ask where he'd been going off to so much and would express his dismay at not having his brother around to drag off on his adventures, but Loki didn't dare speak a word of truth regarding Aemilia. He simply kept it all to himself and waited for the night to come where he would know it was time to reap the fruits of his labor.

That night came after he'd watched Aemilia argue with her father about one of the suitors he was considering for her. She thought the man was vile - and he was, Loki was acquainted with the lad - but her father didn't care much for her opinion on the matter, as most fathers didn't. The partnership made financial and social sense, and those aspects outweighed all others. She argued until she realized how futile it was, then went off to seek refuge in her own chambers.

She slammed her door in frustration and stood there for a minute, seething silently before sitting down at her vanity with a huff. She began taking down her hair, scowling as it fell in waves around her, completely oblivious to the Prince's presence in her room until she heard his devilishly smooth voice break the silence.

"Your father's a fool."

She jumped, then saw his reflection in the mirror at the very same moment that she'd heard his voice. He only smiled at her reaction, sauntering closer to her as she placed a hand on her heaving chest.

"What - why are you here?" she asked, forgoing any royal formalities as she shot to her feet and turned to face him.

He smirked and held up her hairpin between two of his fingers, a short distant between them. "I believe this belongs to you."

He watched her eyes fall upon the pin, recognition slowly dawning on her, and she smiled. He wondered if she'd almost forgotten that she'd left it with him on purpose.

She reached out to take the pin. "Thank you, Your Grace, but -"

"Ah," he quickly jerked the pin away, "what did I tell you of formalities the last time we met, Aemilia?"

Her eyes flashed a little bit, and her demeanor changed. It wouldn't have been noticed by most, but he saw it. She seemed to suddenly understand the nature of this... _visit_.

The Prince that she'd kissed and left on a palace balcony only weeks ago was standing in the middle of her room, dressed in his lightest armor, smirking as he held out the hairpin she'd placed in his pocket that night. She met his amused gaze and let her smile grow a little bit. "My apologies, Loki."

"That's better," he said as he jerked the pin away from her one more time. She looked at him in confusion, then in slight alarm as he stepped closer to her. He slid the pin into her hair, holding back some of her waves from falling into her face, and she couldn't help but stare as he then took a step back.

"You've been watching me," she said before she could stop herself.

"I believe _that_," he said, turning and starting to walk around her room, "was the point of your little act, was it not? To catch my attention, ensnare my interest."

"Or perhaps I only wanted to make a point," she suggested. She watched as the prince stopped at her desk and picked up one of the many pieces of paper that littered it, quickly scanning it with his eyes.

"And what point would that be?" he asked distantly, reading quickly through the paper. It was part of a short fiction story - that's what she spent her nights sitting at the window writing.

"That even a royal such as yourself can't always get what they want."

He smirked, turning and beginning to walk back to her. "Oh, but I do get what I want."

"You didn't that night."

"But I will tonight."

He loved the way her eyes widened and then quickly reverted to normal. She was trying hard to stay calm, but the facade was already starting to break down.

"That's... a rather bold statement," she eventually replied. He'd taken to circling her slowly, as if she were his prey, and she knew that was exactly the suggestion he was going for.

"But not a dishonest one," he said. "Tell me, will you acquiesce to your father's demands to court that uncultured swine?"

She paused for a moment before she replied, "Under the law, I have little choice in the matter."

"Yes, but you could have had your pick of far superior men when you sang at the palace," Loki said. "Why did you not try, for your own sake?"

She scoffed lightly. "Every man who spoke to me that night - even your brother - only wanted one thing from me. None of them wished to court me properly."

"Is that what you want? To be courted _properly_?"

She paused. By his tone, he clearly thought she didn't. At least he'd stopped his circling now.

"I think," he continued, "that propriety bores you as much as it bores me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Should I be insulted by that implication?"

He grinned. "Perhaps. Are you insulted?"

She paused again. "No."

"I didn't think you would be."

"You think you know a lot," she noted.

"I do," he smiled. "I know that it is only a matter of time before the reality of your life stifles you. Living according to the demands of a husband."

"That is my reality because it is the reality of Asgardian society," she pointed out. "Again, I have little choice."

"I don't question that," Loki replied. "I am, however, fascinated with what you are now. And I think..." he walked around her slowly, until he was behind her, "that from the moment you first stepped in the palace, you knew exactly what you wanted."

"I wanted only to make it through my song without losing the notes. And make it out of the palace in one piece," she added with a bit of humor.

"Is that why I felt your gaze upon me all throughout the night?" he asked, his body suddenly an inch away from hers as he spoke the words directly into her ear. His breath brushed her skin and he admired her effort to not shiver visibly.

"I didn't -"

"Do not lie to me," he said, his tone a fraction darker as he slid a hand around her waist. He didn't pull her to him just yet, but kept his hand where it was. "There is no more skilled liar in all the Realms than I - you cannot deceive me, Aemilia."

She tried to move away from him, and this time he did pull her against him, hard enough to make her almost - almost - gasp. "Fine," she steeled herself, focusing her gaze on her bedroom wall as she tried to focus on anything other than the prince's body pressed against hers. "I won't deny it."

"And why do you desire me above my brother? Or the warrior?"

"Fandral?" she scoffed, still staring at the wall, wincing as his fingers dug harder into her stomach through her dress. "If that man were a woman, he would be known as the most shameless harlot in all of Asgard."

Loki grinned. "And Thor? Why did you deny him?"

She sighed. "I admire your brother, but I do not find him desireable in that way. In fact, I think it very likely that if he were to touch me, I would simply shatter under the force of his enormous hands."

Loki chuckled, and the vibration seeped through his chest and into her back. The hand that wasn't on her stomach trailed up one of her arms, then to her shoulder where he brushed her hair aside before placing the palm of his hand over her throat. His fingers curled around her flesh but didn't tighten or cause discomfort. "And could you not shatter under these hands as well?"

"I... I am sure that if you so wished, you could do away with me with ease," she replied, unsure of where he was going with this, but she felt no fear. His touch was possessive, not dangerous.

"I do desire your ruin," he breathed, closing his eyes briefly and letting his hand trail down her shoulder and to her arm. "But of a different sort. Close your eyes."

"But -"

"Close your eyes," he repeated sharply. She obeyed, then felt his arms tighten around her before the floor fell out from beneath her.

In less than the blink of an eye, she felt solidity under her feet once more as his grip loosened fractionally, and she opened her eyes to find herself no longer in her room but in another so opulent and grand that her jaw half-dropped of its own accord. She knew instantly where she was - Loki's own bedroom within the palace - and if she hadn't, she would have been able to deduce it rather easily simply by the colors and contents of the room. It was swathed in various, richly dark shades of green, meticulously organized, every wall lined with shelf upon shelf of books. There was a sitting area, a desk that she thought looked much like her own with the scattering of papers atop it, and a door that she assumed led to a private bath. But her eyes quickly became fixed upon the single largest thing in the room - Loki's bed. It was, in a word, enormous, and she wondered how one could sleep in it without getting lost in it's depths before Loki's hand roaming down her side suddenly reminded her that she wasn't alone.

"You'll get there soon enough, little one," he murmured into her ear, and she quickly tore her eyes away from the bed as a blush crept up her cheeks. She also tore herself out of his grip and turned to glare at him.

"'My ruin'?" she repeated, not daring to forget his words from a moment before.

"Oh yes," he grinned, his amusement clear and great.

"And by 'ruin' do you refer to my lack of virtue to give to a future husband once you're through with me?"

"Ah, but it's so much more than that," he said, almost gleefully, walking towards her and surprising her when he bypassed her in favor of a contemplative walk around his room. "Any man can simply take a woman's virtue, whether offered or not. It is another thing entirely to not only take it, but burn the memory of your touch so deeply into her mind that she craves it... yearns for it... and compares every future touch to that memory only to find each one ... woefully inadequate."

His voice had taken on such a lilting, tantalizing quality that she almost closed her eyes as he spoke. She also almost didn't fully grasp what he was saying until she turned to stare at him as he stood in front of a window, staring back at her just as intently. "I cannot decide if you are simply full of pride and conceit or just... utterly cruel."

He smiled. "Perhaps a bit of both is closest to the truth."

But it wasn't the full truth, and she knew she would never have that when it came to this man. Maybe nobody ever would.

"You see," he said, advancing on her once more, "I relish the thought of bringing you such exquisite pleasure that when your time comes and you must suffer another man's touch, the only way that you can bear it is to imagine that he is me touching you."

She blinked. Clearly this prince had raging ego problems, but she was too befuddled to think on it too much. "So... you wish to cause me lifelong misery and lack of satisfaction."

"You'll have that anyway," he replied matter-of-factly. "I am giving you a gift, my dear Aemilia. And I never said that I would only give you this gift once, or only for one night."

She knew that she should have ran. She should have said no, refused, and left with her virtue intact. She knew that he would let her - she didn't take him for a man who would force his way with her. He seemed to very much enjoy watching her inner struggle, and she knew he was utterly confident in predicting what her choice would be.

She also knew that he was right. He'd barely even touched her tonight and she was already frenzied inside, mostly from his voice and his intoxicating words. She'd never had a chance.

She almost gasped when she felt fingers under her chin - when had he gotten that close again? - but she held in the sound as he regarded her. "You never answered my question from earlier."

She blinked. "What question?"

"Why do you desire me?"

She blinked again, and he ran the back of a finger over her cheek as he watched her try to form an answer. "You... are different," she finally said, not looking him in the eye as she did. "You are dark and... fascinating. You excite me and frighten me all at once."

"Frighten you," he repeated, his fingers moving to run absently through her hair. "How?"

She laughed softy, still looking anywhere but his eyes. "Because... I am not sure that I know fully what I've gotten myself into."

He smirked. "No. You don't."

She then felt solidness behind her - a wall, or the door? - and Loki pressed himself against her as one of his hands held her waist, the other tangling deeper into her hair and grabbing a fistful of it. He pulled and her head jerked to the side, exposing the pale column of her neck to his darkening eyes before his lips descended and he began to devour the soft skin there. He heard, and felt, her gasp at the sudden contact, and her hands went to his shoulders out of instinct. The hand that had been on her waist moved to grab one of hers from his shoulder, and he took it gently in his own and placed it against the wall above her head. His tongue traced her pulse point, and followed down to the place where her neck and shoulder met, and without warning, he bit her.

She yelped, and he grinned as he pulled away to examine his good work. He ran a finger over the spot he'd bitten and said, "Don't worry. This shall fade in a week's time."

Her eyes widened. "A week -"

She tried to yank her hand to her neck, but she found that she couldn't pull it away from the wall. She looked up in confusion and narrowed her eyes at the small strip of emerald silk binding her wrist to the wall, then turned her affronted eyes to Loki. "What is the meaning of -"

"It is only one of your hands that I've restrained," he pointed out, glancing at her other hand as it still held his shoulder. "Shall I change that?"

"No," she bit out, but there was a fresh wave of excitement coursing through her that almost made her roll her eyes at herself.

"Good," he said approvingly. He then dropped down to his knees, and she peered down at him in confusion.

"What are you -"

"Must I restrain that tongue of yours as well?" he asked, looking up at her with a somewhat bored expression. "If you spend this night questioning my every move, I will grow tired of you quickly."

She huffed and snapped her mouth shut, with an audible and defiant snap. He grinned and turned his eyes back down as he lifted the skirt of her dress to her ankles. He then began gently removing her sandals, and she felt her breath quicken at the entirely innocent touch. After he dispensed of her shoes, his hands moved slowly up her legs, and he rose off the ground as they went higher. His eyes locked with hers as one of his hands caressed an inner thigh, making her hold her breath before the hand moved and she felt her undergarments being slid down her legs to her feet.

He bent down to pick them up, then regarded them as he felt the soft material between his fingers. She was about to protest out of embarrassment, but then his fingers twitched and the fabric disappeared.

"Those are mine now," he informed her with a hint of amusement. "Are you going to question me?"

"Not if it means being gagged," she said evenly.

He chuckled. "Oh, that is not what I meant a moment ago. And anyway... I have far better uses for your mouth than that, I assure you."

She blushed at the implication of that, and his grin grew as the color spread over her cheeks. He then kissed the heated skin, as softly as a feather, and placed his forehead against hers as he watched her eyes focus on his lips. Hers were parted, all but begging him to taste them, and he wondered if she was even aware of how his hand was once again creeping up her leg under her skirt.

If she hadn't been aware, she certainly became aware when his hand moved across her thigh and brushed over her center. She jolted and couldn't contain her gasp at that small contact, and he quickly pressed his lips to hers, making her shudder even more as his hand began to toy with her.

His tongue swept into her mouth and her hand desperately grasped the hair at the back of his head, her knees threatening to give way at the competing sensations hitting her like a tall wave. His fingers first only just touched her, and she could have sworn he chuckled mid-kiss, though she didn't bother to demand why because then the touch became more and she could barely focus enough to keep returning his hard, passionate kisses.

He broke away for a moment, leaving her to gasp for air as he effortlessly flicked his fingers and made her tremble with pleasure against the wall. "Is my hand the first to touch you here... other than your own?"

She nodded quickly, her eyes squeezed shut, and he kissed her again in return. Then he pulled away and let his lips hover over hers as he quietly demanded, "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, having no idea of how long they'd been closed in the first place, and lost her breath at the blazing hunger in the prince's eyes. It was almost intimidating, and all the while his fingers worked, and she felt herself soon start careening, lightheadedly dancing off into some sort of oblivion, and then...

He withdrew from her, and she unhappily skidded back into reality with a whine of frustration. He smiled at her confused and disgruntled glare before purring, "Patience, Aemilia. I hadn't intended on taking you that far quite yet, but... I couldn't help myself when I felt how ready you already were for me."

She swallowed a lump in her throat and then jumped a little when her arm suddenly fell from the wall back to her side. The silk restraining it had disappeared, and she rubbed at the numb limb with her other arm as Loki stepped away from her. He turned his back to her and she watched as pieces of his attire began falling to the floor. She didn't understand how a man could wear so many layers and be even mildly comfortable, but she watched in something of a trance until he was left in a simple tunic and pants, both black. He seemed to be fiddling with the edge of his sleeve at his wrist when he said casually, "Unless you wish to be taken against that wall, you can move about as you like."

Taking a deep breath, she slowly leaned away from the wall and looked around. There was nowhere to go but his bed, really, and he knew that. Suddenly her vision began to narrow, and as she realized what was to come - and how much she wanted it more than anything - slight panic began to take hold.

"May I use your bath? Quickly?" she asked, and he glanced at her briefly before nodding. She then ran to the door and threw herself inside.

His washroom was just as extravagant as his bedroom, but she barely noticed as she hurried to the sink. What followed were several moments of what she hoped was typical female behavior before being forever stripped of her virtue - tinkering with hair, patting cool water to her overheated skin, and a lot of mental pep-talking that she knew wouldn't help her nerves in the slightest. She was still trembling from Loki's previous actions and her heart was on the verge of exploding from her chest - could she really handle an entire night of this without combusting?

As if to answer her question, just as she nearly worked up the courage to leave the washroom, she felt arms snake around her waist and looked up to see Loki grinning in the mirror, pressing his lips to her ear. "I believe you've kept me waiting long enough, little one."

Before she could so much as string two intelligent words together in reply, he'd spun her around and placed her right on top of the sink, bringing her to his eye level as his knee moved one of her legs aside so he could stand between them. She again braced herself by placing her hands on his shoulders, and he placed his on the sink behind her. "Now... where was I?"

He kissed her, just as hard and deeply as he had moments ago, and her stomach flipped dizzyingly in response. His body moved against hers, and now that it wasn't covered in a thousand layers, she could truly _feel_ him - feel his hard chest as it slid across hers though thin fabric, feel his breaths become as clipped as hers were as she matched his frenzied kisses, and she also felt exactly how eager he was to have her through the meager barrier of his pants.

Her first instinct was to panic again, but the urge disappeared as soon as it had appeared. Instead, she felt a jolt go through her at the idea that _she_ was the one to cause this reaction from him. She was the one he was kissing as if his very life depended on it, she was the one gently pulling his hair and pulling small growls from his throat every time she did, and she was the reason why his pants were strangling him to death. Suddenly well beyond her previous panic and filled with a possibly temporary confidence, she wrapped her legs around his waist instead of letting them hang limply from the sink, and she leveraged him closer until their hips met. The skirts of her dress were a bunched mess at her waist, so it was mostly her skin he felt as she began to grind deliberately against him. Her hands got brave too, moving from his hair and shoulders to the hem of his shirt before creeping up his bare back.

Her efforts won her a strained groan and a chuckle as Loki's lips left hers. "Are you trying to tease me, Aemilia?"

She didn't reply at first, and she didn't stop her movements either - the friction wasn't a satisfying replacement from his hand earlier, but it was better than helplessly waiting for more.

"Did you not tease me?" she asked at last. "Can I not return the favor?" She punctuated her question by grasping him suddenly through his pants, earning her a tight hiss from his lips. It only took him a moment to smile at her and turn the tables.

"I like your courage," he said approvingly before pulling her close. She blinked and then found herself on her back, in the middle of his bed. His magic was terribly unfair, but it thrilled her as much as annoyed her. He hovered over her, arms still holding her in place, before he asked, "Shall I test that courage?"

Before she could answer, he flipped them over effortlessly, and she found herself straddling his waist, hands to his chest for balance. She looked at him questioningly, and he said evenly, "Take off your dress."

Aemilia had been expecting him to be the one to rip it off, or perhaps make it vanish as he had her undergarments. She frowned when she remembered that - now when she took off her dress and the slip underneath it, there would be nothing shielding any part of her from his eyes. Maybe he'd planned it this way.

When she made no move to do as he said, Loki asked quietly, "Shall I restrain you again and tear it off myself?"

She felt another jolt, the idea sounding far more appealing than she cared to admit. But, she was stubborn, so she reached began her and began loosening the laces on the back of her dress. She kept her eyes fixed on Loki's the whole time, trying to keep a defiant look about her, but his smirk told her that she probably looked half-hearted at best.

When it was loose enough, she gathered up the dress and pulled it over her head, then let it fall to the floor. All that remained was a thin little slip that barely reached her thighs, and when her hands grasped the hem of it, Loki quickly sat up, and in another breath, she was underneath him once more. He changed his mind enough to give her whiplash.

"I prefer my second idea, I think," he said, and before she could protest, he gathered up both of her wrists in one hand and set them over her head, flat on the bed, and once again, she felt the soft but firm restraint of silk, this time holding back both of her arms and making her feel far more at his mercy than one arm did.

He seemed pleased with his work, and she sighed as his mouth latched itself to her neck. She wanted to hold on to his hair, pull at it and scratch her nails down the back of his neck, but instead all she could do was wrap her legs around his waist and try to content herself with that contact. His tongue ran over the bite mark that he'd left earlier, and she shivered as she whined in frustration, "Can you at least take your clothes off, too? If I can't touch you then at least..."

"At least give you something to admire?" he guessed, raising his head and looking pleased with himself. She watched then as his clothes simply vanished, without so much as a wave of his hand. "Don't worry, Aemilia. I'm going to give you _much_ more than that, more than you can yet imagine."

He enjoyed the ripple of pleasant anxiety that fluttered through her body at his words, and also the way her eyes drank in the sight he'd graced her with. He tasted her lips once more, noting the way that she was getting bolder with her tongue as the night went on, and he had to ask his next question.

"You've not been kissed by many, have you?"

Her eyes opened and her face fell a little bit, and he realized that she'd taken his words the wrong way.

"It is not a complaint, little one," he quickly assured her. "I am only curious."

She nodded, hesitantly believing his words. "Not by _many_, no. Believe it or not, this night is entirely out of character for me."

"I find that hard to believe," Loki said, toying with the strap of her slip, "when it is entirely your behavior that brought you to my bed."

She closed her eyes as his hand brushed over her breast through the slip, swallowing against another jolt as she breathlessly explained, "Honestly, I do not know what came over me that night. The hairpin and what I said..." his hand squeezed and she lost her breath for a moment. "I think... you bring something out in me, something... different."

By now he'd taken to covering her neckline with kisses, and his chuckle bounced off her skin as she finished her sentence. She felt him pressed against her thigh, as hard as a rock and smooth as the silken sheets beneath her, distracting her to the point that when he pulled her slip down and replaced his hand with his mouth, she gasped in surprise. She couldn't help but arch and struggle futilely against her bonds as he swirled his tongue around her nipple, making her feel things she'd never felt before and nearly cry out in need. It was so much, so much more than she'd had but not nearly enough, and her hips moved against him to no avail, only earning her a velvety "_Patience_" in response. She wouldn't dare give him the satisfaction of telling him that she simply could not be patient with him, especially when he already knew it.

He took his time, working her up into a miserable frenzy with his mouth, not letting his lips drift lower until he heard little pleading whimpers from her lips. He moved painstakingly slowly, laving attention on every inch of her stomach and down to her hips, keeping to the sides and innocent places, which both relieved and maddened her. But when she felt his hands on her thighs, pushing them gently outward as his tongue licked a trail up each one, she tensed automatically and felt that annoying sense of panic resurface.

"Now, now," he purred, his voice vibrating through her thigh as he rested his cheek there for a moment. "Don't get shy on me, Aemilia. I've not yet even begun."

It was the sheer intimacy of his position that startled her, and she couldn't imagine feeling more exposed. Vaguely she realized the slip was no longer pushed down and up, bunched around her waist, but was gone entirely, and she had no idea when that had happened.

"Relax," he commanded gently, and she closed her eyes and did her best to do so. She focused on his little kisses on her thigh, the softness of his hands as they caressed the same skin, and she felt her discomfort ebb in the wake of his touch. Then his tongue left his mouth and stole a taste of her, and she fell apart.

She'd heard other women whisper of this before, the ones who were lucky enough to have husbands or lovers who cared enough to bring them pleasure, but she quickly realized that nothing she ever imagined could have even marginally prepared her for the real thing. He was vicious, merciless with his mouth and tongue from the very beginning, and what he'd done to her earlier against the wall suddenly seemed like pure innocence. Having no use of her arms, she couldn't help but thrash and bite a hole into her lip to keep from screaming.

Maybe his title of "Silvertongue" actually had very little to do with his skills of persuasive speech and everything to do with his skills of an entirely different nature, she thought wildly just as it all came to an abrupt end.

He jerked his head up and, after being momentarily very distracted by sight of this girl bound by her wrists, hair splayed over her flushed face and breathing like she'd just run the length of the Nine Realms, he commanded sternly, "Stop thrashing, Aemilia."

"I can't help it," she moaned, her entire body shuddering then as his arms pulled her legs over his shoulders, holding her in place as he began again. His new positioning didn't help, and she began flailing once again, despite his hands' hard grips on her. She heard him growl in frustration, then felt it, which brought about a whole new shudder, and she whined, "Maybe if I had my hands -"

Before she could finish, the bonds around her wrists dissolved, and she sighed in relief as her hands immediately shot to Loki's hair. Until now, she hadn't looked towards him fully, barely able to handle the intensity of what she was feeling alone, but now she chanced a glance down to his face. She stilled from her jerky movements as she stared, taking in his slightly knit brow and his white-knuckle grip on her legs, listening to and feeling the sounds he made as he seemed to savor every last taste, and she suddenly couldn't tear her eyes away. Then his head tilted slightly to one side and he opened his eyes, looking up at her and catching her overtly staring, and he chuckled as she blushed, expecting her to quickly look away, but she didn't. Instead, she kept her eyes on him and dug her nails deeper into his scalp as she herself being propelled suddenly, without warning, and her head lolled back helplessly as it all came to an end so sudden and powerful that she managed to tear out some of his hair in her temporary insanity.

She didn't know how long it went on or how long it took for her to regain her senses, but when her eyes eventually opened and she felt her mind unscramble, she realized he hadn't stopped his actions, but merely slowed them down. She opened her mouth to speak, but then she felt slim fingers join his mouth in his efforts, and her words became a shocked moan as it all started again. She could do nothing but lay there and try to keep breathing as she reached her second peak unbelievably quickly, almost as if the first one hadn't really ended at all but just paused on the way to the second one.

All sense of fear or anxiety was long, long gone as Aemilia lay there, breathing shallowly and barely aware of the world around her as time ticked by unfathomably. Distantly, after awhile, she felt lips on her neck, and she started to come back to life when those lips found her mouth. She almost blushed at how he tasted different now, but when she opened her eyes and looked up into the prince's very self-satisfied but strained face, she felt a shift take place within herself.

His hardness was brushing against her, on purpose now, and she could only imagine how direly he was in need of attention. She smiled up at him between his kisses and said hoarsely, "Silvertongue."

She said it like she'd just understood the punchline to an old joke, and he smirked down at her. He'd enjoyed himself nearly as much as she had, but he was nearing the point of pain now with his own arousal, and when she placed a hand on his chest to push him away, he caught her wrist and glared down at her. She was too sated to care, and instead giggled and said, "I thought I'd get a turn now."

Surprised, his grip on her wrist loosened instantly, and he let her push him down to his side and then to his back. Emboldened, she climbed atop him and kissed him deeply, not teasing him too much before she began to slither down his body, kissing here and there, waiting until she'd reached his waist before she looked up and nearly brought him to his end with two softly-spoken words. "Teach me."

The glimmer in her eyes and full sincerity in her voice told him all he needed to know, that she'd indeed bloomed to life under his touch and was no longer inhibited by a virgin's anxiety. He would gladly teach her to please him, and he knew she would make a fantastic student.

He leaned up one one of his elbows, his free hand finding her hair as she slid down just a few inches lower and grasped him in both of her hands. He watched her eyes take him in, watched her unconsciously lick her lips as she experimentally moved one of her hands down and then back up the length of him. Gently he placed his own hand over hers and tightened her grip just a little bit, then moved it with her for a moment before letting go. He tucked her hair behind her ear and let his eyes close for one split second, which was the moment she let her tongue dart out and lick his tip in a burst of courage. His eyes opened and he hissed, his hand instantly tightening in her hair as she did it again, her hand still moving up and down as he pushed slightly on her head. He could only manage one word in his state of need - "_More_."

She understood, and drawing on her newfound courage, she licked her lips one more time and placed her mouth over him fully. His hand on her hair tensed and she heard him grit out, "Cover your teeth."

She giggled a little and did as he said, her hand gripping him as she took in as much of him as she could. Then she drew back up and repeated the motion, then again, not realizing how fast she was going until his hand stilled her movements and he said in a strained voice, "Slowly, Aemilia, _please_."

It sounded so strange, hearing him plead with her, and the strain in his voice sent a jolt through her stomach. She slowed her movements down, and as a few seconds passed, she looked up to him to search his eyes for approval. She felt him twitch in her mouth when their eyes met, and he hissed out, "Use your tongue."

His legs tensed as she followed his instructions, his grip of her hair growing tighter and tighter. Aemilia's next glance to him showed his eyes shut tight, lips parted, brows knitting closer and closer together just before he abruptly tugged her head away. She sucked in a breath quickly as he ungently pulled her up by her hair and tossed her on her back, eyes wild as he crushed his lips to hers in a hard, bruising kiss.

"Did I... do something wrong?" she asked in a small voice, and he laughed softly.

"No, no, quite the opposite, my darling," he cooed, voice still full of strain as he kissed her again. "I'll have you finish what you started another time. For now..."

She felt a yet another jolt at his words another time, just before reality came back to her as he took her hip and ran his hand down to her knee, bending her leg and bringing it up to his hip as she felt him lightly brush her center. She braced herself, tensing automatically as she accepted what was coming, but his voice in her ear spoke more tenderly to her than it had all night. "The more you tense, the more it will hurt."

She sighed, not at all jarred by his apparent knowledge of this, but genuinely grateful for his experience. She felt oddly safe with him, though she knew she probably shouldn't, but he'd taken her to places she never imagined before this night, and she trusted him to take her the rest of the way, whether it was foolish to or not.

All Loki wanted was to sheath himself inside of her and finally let himself go, but he kissed Aemilia's lips and every inch of her skin that he could reach until he knew that she was ready for him. He didn't know that she'd been more than ready for him from the moment she'd begun to pleasure him, or that she was still in shock from how much she'd enjoyed that particular act. She kept it to herself, enjoying his attentions and taking a deep breath as she felt him push closer to her.

"Breathe," he instructed as he rested his forehead against hers, then pushed inside her as slowly as he could manage. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and she did _not_ breathe, tensing up all over again and feeling shock take hold at just how painful it really was. For both their sakes, he didn't stop until he'd filled her, and as she tensed even more and strangled him from within, Loki dropped one of his hands to the middle of her chest and said a string of words that at first sounded like curses to Aemilia's burning ears, but they weren't. She blinked back tears before a warm, tingly sensation began where his hand was, quickly washing over her whole body, taking every last trace of pain with it.

It left her feeling like she was floating, and she lay there entranced by the feeling until Loki's voice rasped in her ear, "Are you well and good now, because I need to move."

She shuddered at the sheer need in his voice, and she nodded her reply, still in shock that the terrible sharp pain had simply dissipated under his magic. She then gasped when he pulled nearly fully out to slam back in, then again, and again, and all she could do was hold on to him tight as he set his rhythm.

At first that was all it was, holding on and trying to grasp this foreign, strange feeling of being so utterly full, but in only a moment or two, as his thrusts became deeper, she began feeling little sparks of pleasure from deep within, and she started chasing those sparks with her hips every time his would collide with hers. The first time she let a little moan leave her lips, he groaned and brought one of his hands underneath her, holding her up at the small of her back and angling her differently, and she cried out at the sheer pleasure wrought by the change. She scratched her nails down his back with one hand and held on to his hair with the other, matching his every move as her pleasure grew with each of his thrusts, and when she felt his eyes burning into hers, she looked up and shuddered at what she saw.

Loki was unguarded, feral, beautiful in his lack of restraint or care, staring down at her with dilated green eyes through a small curtain of his disheveled black hair, breathing through his open mouth and heightening every last sensation that was rocketing though her with just the strength of his gaze. All she could do was stare and try not to drown under the waves of pleasure that she was riding.

For his part, this was what Loki had been most looking forward to all along. This was what he'd craved since he first heard her sing, and even more so since she left him standing alone on the palace balcony - watching her come undone underneath him, a beautiful, dark mess of a girl that would never be the same after experiencing his touch. This was him imprinting upon her memory, her mind, her very soul as he buried his hand in her hair and opened his mouth.

"You're mine," he growled, watching her eyes widen slightly at the words. "You'll always be mine, do you understand? No matter who you marry, where you go, or what you want... this part of you belongs to me now. You are mine. Say it."

She was overwhelmed. He pushed into her harder, punctuating his words, and she nearly toppled over the edge.

He kissed her, hard and fast, then repeated himself. "Say it, Aemilia."

"I'm yours," she obeyed, her voice a little too high pitched under her very pleasant duress. "I'm yours..."

His features seemed to soften just a little bit then, and he buried his face into her neck as she thought she heard him groan "_mine_" a few more times. She held him close and gasped when one of his hands reached between them, bringing her to her end with but one little touch of his fingers. Already unbearably tight, she clenched around him and made him see stars, and he pulled painfully hard on her hair as he finally, finally, found his satisfaction.

Her mind was a haze of pleasure, passion and pain as his weight fell upon her, and she didn't want to come back to reality. This was far, far better - she could never leave this room again and be perfectly happy, she was sure of it.

His heavy, uneven breaths on her neck and slowly loosening hands were what eventually brought her back around, and when he finally rolled off of her and to his side, she opened her eyes and tentatively looked to him. She wondered if he'd really meant what he said, or if it had simply been the ravings of a possessive egomaniac in the throes of passion. She quickly had her answer.

"I _do_ always get what I want, Aemilia. Remember that the next time I call upon you," he said in a deep, lazy voice. "And I shall. Frequently, I suspect."

Her heart thudded, unsure of how to take this. She knew she'd never deny him, not after tonight. He was right - he truly was her ruin. Ruin that she welcomed with open arms.

His hand reached her, trailing over her stomach and up to her breast, massaging it lightly as she closed her eyes. Somehow, even after all they'd done, the touch sparked a fresh wave of excitement within her, and she was relieved to feel his lips upon her neck and his breath hot on her ear as he whispered but one word to her.

"_Again_."

**A/N: erm... so... yeah. My first-ever attempt at Loki sexytimes, which is way more intimidating than it should be, but I think it turned out ok :) I may be adding to this in the future or writing a sequel or two, but for now it's a oneshot, written for the lovely and amazing midnightwings96. Thank you to everyone who reads this, reviews are much appreciated! :D **


	2. Chapter 2

Aemilia woke up in her own bed, under her familiar bedroom ceiling, as if it was any other ordinary morning. The light of dawn was bright in her slowly opening eyes as it filtered through her white-curtained windows, and she stretched her arms and legs under her sheets as she did every morning upon waking. She was instantly met with a great ache that seemed to start at the top of her thighs and spread dully throughout her legs, torso and even her arms, and after grimacing in confusion, her eyes snapped open wide and she froze.

Memories washed over her like a sheet of ice-cold water, and her chest lurched as she closed her eyes and dropped her head down on her pillow with a groan. Her neck quickly protested the movement with a sharp burst of pain, apparently suffering similar soreness as the rest of her body, and she pulled her blanket up and over her head as her mind flooded with images of what she'd done the night before.

Her little act of defiance weeks ago at the palace had come back to haunt her, and she wondered how she thought she'd ever manage to get away with it at all. What had she been hoping to accomplish, anyway? Maybe it was all true, what Loki said, and last night was what she'd wanted all along.

_Loki_. The mere thought of his name sent a shiver down her spine and heated her skin. He had been everything she expected and yet so much more - he was indeed as dark and dangerous as she'd perceived him weeks ago. He was rough and demanding and domineering, intoxicating and frightening and beautiful and a thousand other adjectives that she couldn't think of in her mental haze. She could almost feel his touch even now, the burning memory of it lingering on her skin as she trailed her own fingertips along her stomach, underneath her nightgown.

He hadn't brought her back home until it was well into the dead of night. He seemed to be insatiable, having her at least twice more after the first time, or perhaps thrice more - it had all begun to blur together after awhile. No wonder she was so sore, she thought as she begrudgingly tossed the covers away and forced herself to sit up - she was lucky to be in one piece after last night.

Her muscles screamed as she slowly stood up from the bed, her legs wobbling slightly and thighs trembling as she took a breath and tried to pull herself together. Surely, she told herself, once she had been up and about for awhile, and taken a good long bath, she wouldn't be in such a wretched state. She quickly hobbled off to her washroom, eager to get this done before her handmaiden burst into her room and sensed something amiss.

As soon as she got into the washroom, she made a beeline for her bathtub and quickly flipped on the tap before dragging herself to her sink to brush her teeth. But, before she could even reach for her toothbrush, she did a staggering double take at her reflection in the large mirror above the sink.

Her lips were still swollen from Loki's brutal kisses, looking almost as if they'd been struck with a fist rather than merely kissed into oblivion. Her hair was tangled with huge knots that his fingers had created, and her eyes were puffy and red from lack of sleep. Her gaze dropped lower, then fell on the red, terribly noticeable bite mark on her neck. She scowled at that - it had been completely unnecessary, just a way for the prince to mark his new "territory" like the possessive fiend that he apparently was. Now she had to keep it covered and out of sight, and that was hard to do when she had a handmaiden who helped her dress and undress frequently.

Sighing, she walked away from the sink and turned off the bath tap. She was still mentally grumbling about the state of her neck when she pulled off her slip and suddenly realized why her thighs hurt so badly.

Aemilia stared blankly at the big, ugly purple bruises that started on her inner thighs and extended outwards, trailing off towards her hips where there were a few smaller finger-shaped ones. Startled, she quickly scanned the rest of her body and found a few more bruises - a few on the back of her upper arm, one on her side, and one on the small of her back.

She frowned deeply. Asgardian flesh did not bruise easily. How could she have sustained such injuries but not felt any pain while she was receiving them?

Then she remembered - Loki had cast some kind of pain-numbing spell on her, to ease the discomfort of her virtue being taken. That was the only explanation for how she was just now noticing the evidence of the prince's... zeal.

Aemilia winced greatly as she eased into the tub, able to relax only when she was fully submerged in the hot water, which worked wonders on her nerves and battered body. She knew the bruises would be gone in a day or two, and would cease to be painful in mere hours, but it was a small comfort. Seeing her skin and body in such a state had triggered a slight sense of panic in the back of her mind, and she felt it slowly creeping up her spine and heating her ears.

_What have I done?_

She hadn't once truly considered saying no to Loki at any point last night. She had wanted him, every inch of him, all of his titillatingly scandalous words and touches, every last bit of pleasure that he tortured her with, and she hadn't thought very far beyond that. She had assumed, with good reason, that it would be an adventure limited to one night's foolishness - one girl's youthful, pleasurable mistake and one prince's curious mischief, nothing more and nothing less. She realized that she'd been wrong when he'd spoken the words currently slithering though her mind, echoing until she thought she might lose her ability to breathe.

"_You're mine... you'll always be mine, do you understand?"_

He'd only further proven the meaning behind his words as the night progressed. When he'd finally teleported her back to her own room in her own home, he left her with a lingering, lazy kiss and a promise that he would see her soon.

It had been no simple one night affair. What would it prove to be? Had she made a far more serious mistake than she could have anticipated? What would happen if Loki wasn't discreet, and what happened did not remain private?

Just as she felt herself begin to fully panic, Aemilia closed her eyes and evened her breathing. She focused on the simple act of inhaling through her nose, then exhaling through her mouth, calming her racing heart and silencing the irrational voices in her head. She absolutely would _not_ panic now. Surely the prince would soon tire of her and move on to other conquests, and as she'd never heard anything of his previous lovers, he would almost certainly remain discreet.

"_No matter who you marry, where you go, or what you want... this part of you belongs to me now. You are mine."_

She tried not to shudder, but the memory of his words made her skin crawl. It also made her blood pool between her aching legs.

Her eyes fluttered shut, again feeling the phantoms of his touch ghosting along her skin as she let her head fall back. His hard, deep kisses, his maddeningly skilled hands, his tongue that she thought deserved to have monuments built in it's honor... she could almost, almost, feel it all even now, so close somehow and yet just out of reach...

She sighed and realized that she was staring sightlessly into space, replaying scenes in her head that she needed to shove away to properly function today. She forced herself back into reality and dunked her head under the water, but when she came back up for air only a second later, she found that the images and memories could not be so easily washed away.

It was going to be a long, long day.

* * *

Loki was positively, unabashedly, and quite oddly, in a fantastic mood. He may have awoken alone as per usual, but he awoke to an unmistakable scent lingering on his sheets - a hint of rose mixed with something else that he couldn't place - and it set his day off far better than he could say for his other recent ones. He was in such a good mood, he even entertained Thor's banter over breakfast, which was something that he usually couldn't bother with until at least the early afternoon.

Mornings were generally reviled by Loki. He would endure too-long, too-loud breakfast with his family long enough to pacify his mother, then oftentimes was burdened with tedious and loathsome tasks that would waste a day that he could have spent far more effectively. He was a prince, after all, and he had duties - duties that fell to him when Thor was not suited to them. He would assist in the receiving of foreign dignitaries, or dabble in diplomacy, which was an area where his natural persuasiveness made him the perfect ambassador to the neighboring realms. Other days, his mother would confiscate him for the day, and he had a pathetic lack of ability to ever tell her no. Then, on days where neither duties nor Frigga stole him away, it was Thor who would ruin his solitary plans and drag him off to join in whatever he had cooked up for them to get into that day.

He would generally know before breakfast had concluded which of those things would be hijacking his day. Then there were the blessedly rare days like this one, when Frigga would speak of her plans for the afternoon that only involved her own handmaidens, Thor would hurriedly stuff his face so that he could get to the training grounds - without Loki - quicker, and nobody would dump anything in Loki's lap that would take up all of the daylight hours. He was free to do as he pleased, and it only further boosted his soaring mood.

So grand was his mood that Loki actually spoke more during the meal than Thor did, which was nearly unprecedented. He and Frigga engaged in light small talk, he conversed briefly with Odin regarding state affairs, and teased Thor when the blonde warrior started on his third plate of food.

"Have you been spending too much time with Volstagg, brother?" Loki inquired, raising a brow at Thor as he swallowed down a huge mouthful of what appeared to be an entire biscuit. "I don't think gluttony suits you quite as well as it does him."

Thor narrowed his eyes and washed the biscuit down with a gulp of juice from his gilded goblet. "I have a warrior's appetite, brother. You would not be familiar with such a thing." When Loki merely chuckled, Thor added, "What has you in such an agreeable mood? You have spoken more this morning than you have in any morning of the last... century."

Loki shrugged and sipped his own goblet. "It is a lovely day, is it not?"

In those innocuous words, Thor apparently found the meaning he was looking for, and slowly a grin spread across his handsome face. "_Aha_. I know that look. You spent last night in the company of a maiden. That is why you're in such an agreeable mood."

Loki set down the goblet and didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow. Thor leaned forward and grinned even wider. "Do I know her?"

"As usual, Thor, your interest in the state of my private affairs is flattering in a... disturbing way."

"Oh, come on," Thor nagged, blue eyes alight with amusement. "Just tell me her name. Or," he wriggled his eyebrows, "describe her to me."

"Thor," Frigga quickly scolded from across the table. "This is hardly the time or the place for such a discussion."

Loki grinned at his mother's eternal squeamishness at hearing of either of her son's conquests, and Thor gave Loki a look that told him he'd be asking for more details in private later.

"But," Frigga then added, "I must say, whatever - or whomever - has brought about this pleasant change in your demeanor this morning has my full gratitude."

She said it warmly, and Loki humored her with a small smile.

"Perhaps," Thor said with another grin, "Loki is reluctant to tell us of her because she is not a _her_ at all, but a _he_."

"And if it was?" Loki replied, not missing a beat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Odin shift slightly uncomfortably and Frigga give a good-natured eye roll. "Would that make it any more of your concern, brother?"

"The ease with which you speak of it suggests that I may be on to something," Thor countered, thoroughly enjoying the banter.

"And your quickness to think it and lack of prejudice suggests that perhaps it is something you yourself think on, which in turn leads me to believe that I, in fact, may be on to something about you."

Thor laughed, a booming bellow of a chuckle. "Always talking in circles, brother, never answering a single question straight on."

"I keep expecting you learn one of these days, Thor, but you never do," Loki grinned.

"I'll get her name out of you one way or another," Thor vowed. "I always do."

He _thought_ he always did, Loki corrected Thor in his mind, but he remained silent, glancing at Thor's goblet as the older brother brought it to his lips. Under the table, Loki's hand twitched, and instead of sweet juice, Thor took a big gulp of vinegar.

Loki laughed as Thor spat and sputtered, and Frigga gave her younger son a disapproving but admittedly resigned sort of look as Thor grabbed a pitcher of water from the table and poured it down his throat.

"That was worse than the time you turned my wine to sour milk!" Thor said miserably in between gulps.

"My apologies," Loki grinned, standing up from the table. "I'll make sure it's the sour milk next time, then."

He then nodded to Frigga before walking away from Thor's gagging and towards a day he'd have all to himself, a spring in his step that he could indeed attribute to a certain young maiden. Thor would not be getting her name, or any other details, until the day Loki grew bored with her. But he didn't anticipate that happening any time soon.

Now, the question was... what to do with his suddenly free time?

* * *

Aemilia's day went nearly as badly as she'd feared it would. She had almost - almost - been late to her singing lessons, due in large part to how deeply she'd had to dig in her supply of gowns to find one with a high enough collar to hide the bite on her neck. Then, once that crisis had been resolved, she'd learned at breakfast that her supposed new "suitor" was making arrangements to meet her later in the week, and she almost laughed out loud at the news. The timing alone was enough to make her want to throw a fit and lock herself in her room whenever the man decided to come around, but she kept her expression stoic and then quickly dashed off.

Her singing that day was off, and her instructor - an older woman who Aemilia had to thank for the palace's invitation those weeks ago - knew straight away that something was distracting her pupil. She was not a particularly patient teacher, so after only an hour, she sent her off for the day with the instructions to take care of whatever had her troubled. Again, Aemilia had to withhold her urge to laugh - she had utterly no way of resolving anything.

She then tried to spend her day as normally as possible - she met with some of her female friends from the theater, and they roamed the city as they frequently did throughout the week. She followed them into shops and engaged them in light conversation, all the while she was nearly bursting with the almost unbearable desire to tell someone - anyone - about the scandalous night she'd spent in their Prince's bed.

But she couldn't, so she didn't. She instead did her very best to act completely normal on the outside while she tittered with anxiety on the inside. When would he show up again, as he promised that he would? Would he appear in her room again that night, or perhaps "coincidentally" walk past her as she was out and about, and give her a subtle but unmistakeable look that would alert her to his intentions? Would it be today, tomorrow, or next week? Would it happen at all?

A fly landed on her nose and she jumped as she swatted it away. Her eyes focused from her obnoxiously repetitive thoughts and Aemilia realized that she'd drifted off again, this time while at dinner at home with her parents. They were discussing her impending engagement - apparently in their minds, it was a done deal - as if the person it most directly affected wasn't sitting right there in front of them, dazedly picking at her food and becoming more and more annoyed.

"... Yes, and I am quite relieved that it has all worked out perfectly," her mother, Ayre, said to her father, Haedir, as she delicately polished off a leafy green salad. She was a poised, elegant noblewoman, tall and blonde and regal to the point of making her own daughter sometimes feel inadequate next to her. Whatever grace Aemilia had - and she thought she had a decent amount - it was thanks to being raised by Ayre. "I am glad the family saw the benefits of the marriage quickly."

"Marriage?" Aemilia spoke up suddenly. "Mother, I haven't yet even properly met... the man."

"Dagr," her mother said sternly. "His name is Dagr, Aemilia."

"I have not yet even met him, mother," Aemilia repeated. "Yet you speak of the courtship as if it has already resulted in a marriage."

"Do you have any reason to think that it will not?" Ayre replied evenly.

"I have no opinion either way until I am actually acquainted with him."

Ayre sighed. "Darling, the marriage will strengthen our family in every way. He is a respected member of the Royal Guard, a son of a most noble family, and he will give you a wonderful life."

Royal Guard... that would explain how Loki knew of him, Aemilia thought, recalling the way he'd called Dagr an "uncultured swine" the night before. Then she inwardly swore - she'd managed to not think about the night before for nearly five minutes, then ruined her streak that quickly.

Her hand tickled, and she looked down to see the annoying fly as the culprit. She swatted it away again and looked to her father, hopeful that he'd somehow see her side of things. Under the law, he could give her away in marriage to anyone he wanted, and that also meant he could spare her as well. But he merely looked at her stoically and turned back to his meal. She sighed and did the same, making a face when she saw the damn fly had landed in the middle of her plate this time.

She retreated to her room soon after, walking into it slowly and apprehensively but closing the door quickly. She almost expected Loki to be sitting there in her bed or perhaps at her window, ready to whisk her off for another sleepless night, but her room was empty.

Exhaustion set in quickly, and she prepared for bed early. She was pleased to find the bruises on her body over halfway healed, and she hoped a good night's sleep would ease the lingering aches and pains. Assuming that she was able to sleep at all.

The last thing she remembered was climbing under her covers and looking up at her ceiling before a deep and dreamless sleep claimed her.

* * *

He watched her sleep from a corner of her room, torn between two very distinct urges. One told him to wake her, to slip under her blankets and curl his arms around her and kiss her until sleep left her and she was his for the night. The other urge was quieter, less impulsive, and it spoke to him as the voice of reason.

He could wake her and ravish her, yes. But he could also torture her. Stay in the shadows, watch as she waited for a sign from him and got nothing. She'd been on edge all day - what would happen in, say, a week's time?

Loki grinned, stepping closer to her bed, his footsteps silent as he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest under her blankets. He would enjoy watching her slowly fall apart, fighting but ultimately succumbing to the anxiety that would plague her mind in his absence. He would loom over her mind, the memory of his touch plaguing her every waking moment until she became desperate for something - anything - from him. And Loki, being merciful, would oblige.

Maybe he was cruel, just a little bit. He couldn't deny it. He liked these games. He relished watching a woman slowly come undone like she surely would, with minimal effort on his part. But he would reward her in the end. His games were never without purpose.

He ran the back of his finger over her cheek without her so much as twitching. She was truly exhausted. He allowed himself one more little smile before pulled his hand away, then turned and vanished.

* * *

Seven days passed. Seven days. And nothing. Absolutely nothing from the prince who'd taken her virginity and promised to be a constant presence in her life.

She tried her best to be relieved. Maybe it really had been a one-night affair, and if it had, surely that was for the best. No - it was obviously for the best. It shouldn't have happened at all.

That's what she told herself, but on the inside, she was filled with an anxiety and disappointment that she couldn't admit to. To make it worse, the final day of the week marked the day that she would finally meet her new suitor.

By then, the bruises were long gone, and all that remained of the bite mark on her neck was a tiny little line that was unnoticeable to anyone else. Memories, however, didn't fade as quickly as the physical evidence, and even as she sat down at her parents' dinner table, with Dagr at her side and his own parents on his side, she found it hard to think of anything but Loki. And that made her want to punch herself in the face.

She decided then and there, as they all ate and drank and barely acknowledged her existence amongst them, that she would stop being pathetic. So she made a mistake - big deal. Everyone made mistakes, and she wouldn't sit idly by and fret as her fate was being decided for her. She would at least participate in her supposed courtship, whether she had a legal say in its result or not.

She turned to the man at her side and gave him a good, critical look. He was not terrible looking. He was blonde and short-haired, tall and well-built, everything she would expect from a Royal Guard. He had a square-ish face, light brown eyes and lips that she thought were a little too large for his face, but he was... average. Her suitor could have been much, much worse physically, all things considered.

He noticed her looking at him, perhaps for the first time that night, and he gave her a small smile. She returned it, then suddenly slapped her face - the same damn fly that had been stubbornly buzzing around her house for the last week had landed on her face, in between her eyes, and she responded with a hard slap before she had a chance to think about it first.

"I'm sorry," she half-laughed, realizing how foolish she must have looked.

"No apologies necessary," he assured her.

She had been courted before, and it had always held a degree of awkwardness, but this was ridiculous. She tried to think of something - anything - to say, and then the fly landed on the tip of Dagr's nose. He smacked his face as she had smacked hers a moment ago, and the undamaged fly then headed her way. She grimaced and swatted at it, and then squeaked when the obnoxious thing then dove directly into the neckline of her dress.

Suddenly, she was in a dilemma - in the present company, she couldn't reach in her dress and fish the insect out, but she also couldn't sit there with a fly buzzing about her breasts, especially not when Dagr had witnessed it all and was now staring at her chest. She gave him a quick glare, and he caught himself and looked away as she hurriedly excused herself from the table.

Cursing the utterly bizarre nature of what had just happened, Aemilia stomped off to the nearest bathroom and locked herself inside. She turned to the mirror and pulled on the neckline of her dress, peering into it and seeing nothing. She then felt around, trying to figure out where the pest had gone, but she found no sign of it. She furrowed her brows and then tugged harder on the neckline, pulling it as far out as possible as she looked one last time. Then, three things happened at once.

A hand clamped down on her mouth, an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into a hard chest, and a velvety voice whispered hotly into her ear, "You look as if you might be in need of assistance."

She would have screamed had the hand not muffled her voice, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever been so purposefully terrified in all her life. But then she'd heard that voice, and her urge to scream died in her throat.

His hand slowly fell away from her mouth, sliding down over her neck as she sucked in a deep breath. She looked up into the mirror and saw the face of her dark prince next to her own, looking at her reflection with an open hunger that made her knees weak. His lips grazed her ear as he said, "Remarkable how one little fly can be such a nuisance."

His hand then ran over where hers had been before his sudden invasion, and he gently groped her through her dress. His lips descended upon her neck, and as much as she wanted to throw him off of her and yell at him for having the audacity to show up like this, right now, after seemingly ceasing to exist for the past week, her voice was frozen in her throat. She simply stared at him, suddenly breathing heavily through her mouth as his tongue ran down her neck to her shoulder.

"But, you see," he said in a low voice as he trailed his lips back towards her ear, "a fly on a wall can see everything."

Suddenly, her lagging mind caught up and realized what had just happened and what he was trying to tell her.

Master of magic. Shapeshifter. _He_ was the fly. He'd been the fly all along.

Her eyes widened and she found her voice again. "Why?" she demanded. "And why are you doing this right now?"

"Shhh," Loki grinned, turning her around and holding her against the edge of the sink with his body. "We wouldn't want your suitor and his family to hear us, now would we?"

"No," she said, shaking her head, not saying the word in reply to his rhetorical question but as her own statement. "No, I will not do this. Not after -"

He cut her off with a searing kiss to her lips. Her hands rose to his chest to push him away, but he caught her wrists and used them to pull her closer as he dominated her mouth with ease. Her hands may have fought him but her lips parted for him immediately, and he didn't suppress his groan when her tongue began a futile fight with his for control.

In the wake of her very quick, almost laughable defeat, he let go of her wrists, and she quickly moved her hands to his hair and held him desperately close as her response to him became ever more frenzied. She was disappointed in herself but she couldn't stop, didn't want to stop, and progressively became less and less capable of rational thought the longer he kissed her.

She gasped when his lips left hers and latched to her neck, then gasped again when he lifted her up and left her nothing to do but wrap her legs around his waist and hold on to his hair and shoulders as he ground against her. He turned them and pushed her up against the opposite wall with a too-loud thud before drawing back to look her over.

"Look at you," he grinned, watching her breath come in ragged gasps and her heated eyes narrow at his words. "You would let me have you, right here, as your family and suitor dines in the next room. Do you know what that makes you?"

Her eyes flashed, as if reality suddenly washed over her in a curtain of anger, and she tried to shove him away. He didn't budge, so she slapped him. He barely flinched, aside from the smallest of jerks from his head and a grin that made her think he'd enjoyed it. He kissed her again, and she moaned woefully into his mouth.

One of his hands slid the skirt of her already-skewed dress higher up her leg, and he ended the kiss only when the same hand had snaked up to her center and gave her the lightest of touches. "Ah... so ready for me, just as I knew you'd be."

She closed her eyes and tensed, waiting for whatever he was going to do next to happen. Then he shocked her by setting her down on her feet.

He took a step back, and she stared up at him in confusion. He merely smirked and smoothed down her newly mussed hair with one hand as he said, "I won't keep you from your guests any longer."

"But-"

"Once they have gone, however," he leaned in close and she closed her eyes as his lips tickled her ear, "you are mine."

Then he vanished. Aemilia gritted her teeth and cursed his name.

* * *

Aemilia was almost relieved when Dagr asked to accompany her on a walk when she'd finally emerged from the bathroom. The cool night air sounded far preferable to her parents' dining room, especially since her skin was still burning from Loki's sudden intrusion, and she hoped that it would help set her mind right.

It didn't. Her mind raced with Loki's promise of what the night would hold for her as she walked down the cobblestone path with the man who aspired to be her intended, but she did an impressive job of not letting it show. She knew that Loki wanted her to tremble and stutter through the remainder of the night, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She schooled her features and again prepared to wade through Dagr's awkward attempts at conversation.

"I hear you were received very favorably at the palace not more than a week ago," Dagr said as they walked slowly. Her home was on a large, sprawling bit of land, closer to the western mountain range than to the shining city, and the pathway was full of the sounds of nighttime wildlife. "I would have loved to see your performance, but I was assigned to guard the weapon's vault that night."

She nodded. "It was nerve-wracking, but it did go very well."

"And you also are involved with the theater?"

"Smaller productions, mostly," she replied. "But yes."

"Surely singing for the King and his court will arise new opportunities for your career," Dagr said.

She raised a brow at this - a potential suitor who spoke favorably of her ambitions? This was nearly unheard of.

"Time is sensitive, after all," he continued. "I do believe in the importance of a maiden achieving her own aspirations, if she has them, before she begins bearing children."

And just like that, Aemilia's very short-lived hope that Dagr was different from the typical Asgardian male went up in smoke. Of course he wasn't different - why would he be? The men were all the same, living it up in their long-lived youth with whomever they pleased before taking a wife who would give them an heir and run their home - and do very little else. Sure, she could have her little "aspirations" now, but once she was married and settled, those would simply have to fall by the wayside and be forgotten.

Dagr noted her silence and attempted to change the subject. "Your home is lovely. Did you grow up here?"

She sighed. He really was trying to keep the conversation flowing, but she simply had no energy or care to genuinely participate. It didn't mean she wouldn't force herself to, however. "Yes. This estate has been in my family for a millennia."

"Your father's side?"

"Actually, my mo-"

A soft hoot from directly over her head stopped her short. Aemilia looked up into the branches of a large tree that loomed over the pathway and saw a large, jet-black owl sitting proudly on the longest branch and watching them intently. The owl's strikingly, and unnaturally, green eyes gave its true identity away, and Aemilia suspected that was the point. She glared at the owl before clearing her throat and finishing her sentence. "The estate has been passed down through my mother's side."

"Ah. Would you be sad to leave the mountainside?"

She frowned slightly, listening to the flutter of wings overhead as the owl followed them. "I choose not to contemplate such matters until they are imminent."

"That is fair."

_Hoot hoot_. Aemilia looked up and again glared stonily at the owl as it hopped gracefully between branches. Then it winked at her. She nearly picked up a stone and hurled it at the not-bird in response.

She couldn't deny the propriety of Loki's owl persona. Owls were intelligent, calculating hunters of the night, and she could suddenly relate to how a mouse must regularly feel.

"I suppose we ought to head back," Dagr said, and Aemilia could not have been happier to turn back.

The walk back was largely silent, punctuated by soft little hoots until Aemilia was safely back inside her home. Dagr and his parents left soon after, and she dutifully endured the uncomfortable goodbyes and Dagr's even more uncomfortable kiss to her hand. Once he was gone, Aemilia turned to her mother and nearly gagged at the happiness etched on her beautiful face.

"Is he not a lovely man?" Ayre smiled, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"He is exactly as I thought he would be," Aemilia answered vaguely. "I'm sure you are very pleased."

"I should hope that you are as well," Ayre said, her tone a fraction more sober as she took in Aemilia's expression.

Aemilia smiled and brushed off her morher's hand, heading towards the staircase. "It matters not if I am."

She ignored the calls of her mother as she raced to her room, craving solitude and knowing that she would find nothing of the sort. She yanked her door open as soon as she reached it, barked at her handmaiden to leave her task of tidying her room, and then slammed the door shut behind her. She then stood there and huffed, "I know you're here."

In response, she felt a swift, soft kiss pressed to her neck from behind her, and her stomach flipped traitorously in response. She turned quickly and glared at Loki's always-smirking face. "Take me elsewhere."

"Why?"

"Because I wish to raise my voice to you and I do not want my family to hear."

His smirk grew. "As you wish."

He took her hand, and a blink later, she was in his palace chambers, right in the perfect middle of his enormous room. She yanked her hand away and tried to ignore the fact that it was shaking as she steeled herself. "I demand that you stop this... game, or scheme, or whatever it may be that you're doing and leave me be."

He raised a dark brow. "Oh? You _demand_ this?"

"Yes!" she said, already exasperated. "What are you hoping to accomplish?! I do not want to be followed by you, and I certainly do not want to be your plaything. There is quite enough that I must endure without the added stress of you and your..."

"My what?"

She frowned. "Your mischief."

"Ah," he grinned. "I think that perhaps you are using myself as an outlet for anger that is not truly directed towards me. If it is your desire to relieve yourself of that anger, I can think of a far more effective method."

Her shoulders sagged slightly and she let out a humorless laugh. "Can you not see things from my perspective? I have already worsened my lot by making my first mistake with you. I do not wish to make a second one."

"Tell me how I worsened your lot," he said casually, strolling around her towards a small table. She turned and watched as he began to pour two goblets of what she assumed was wine as she spoke.

"Is it not obvious?" she asked. "I let my curiosity get the better of me, and now I am nothing more than a fool of a girl whose future husband will know that she is impure and will treat her accordingly. Beyond _that_," she said, adding a bite to her tone, "I must also endure the whims of a prince who apparently thinks that I am his to command, even as I am being courted."

As she finished, he turned and offered her a goblet. She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "Is that all?" he asked with a slightly bored tone.

She blinked. "Is it not enough reason for me to be angry?"

"There is more," he said simply, taking a long sip of the wine. "You've yet to address the true reasoning behind your actions at the palace."

"Oh?" she said defiantly. "Then perhaps you know more of my motivation than I, so please, enlighten me, my Prince."

He chuckled lowly - he rather enjoyed her sarcastic mouth. "In my time spent... observing you, I've come to realize several things about you that I don't believe you yourself are aware of. First and foremost... you are an utterly rebellious little creature."

She widened her eyes in a gesture meant to tell him to hurry up and elaborate. He went on, "You are not content with the life that you will be forced to live. You despise the ways of Asgardian society with respect to courtship and marriage, yet you rightfully believe that you have no choice other than to unhappily abide by it. So, what does a woman such as yourself do as she senses the end of her freedom drawing ever closer?"

He was circling her now, and Aemilia listened to his words with rapt attention. She couldn't help it - he could have read her the entirety of Asgard's texts regarding agricultural bylaws and she still would have listened just as intently.

"She takes a once in a lifetime opportunity lent to her to sing for the King himself. At first that's all she thinks the night will hold. But then something catches her eye... something a bit darker than what she is accustomed to. Something frightening and exciting. Something she finds herself craving a taste of."

His voice was lower now, and his hand reached out and slid along her waist as he walked around her.

"So she takes a risk. She teases a Prince and provokes his interest. She knows what her actions will bring about, and she does it purposefully. Why? Because as her own personal statement against the terribly unfair position that she finds herself in, she exerts control of the one thing that is, as of now, still hers and hers alone - her body."

He accentuated his words with his hand as it slid from her side down her hip. Aemilia kept her eyes on the floor, feeling his breath on her neck and trying desperately to not shiver.

"You know what will happen when you marry, when your husband beds you and you do not shed so much as a drop of blood. He cannot punish you for your past indiscretion, or publicly scorn you, but he can talk, and he can be sure that his noble new wife feels the shame of her mistake from her peers. You've seen this happen to others, have you not?"

She nodded miserably.

"And yet, you risk that shame anyway. You risk it to spend a night in your Prince's bed. You risk it because you would rather face the shame of your lust than live your life knowing that you were too much of a coward to take what you wanted when you had the chance. You risk it and relish the way it feels to break the rules for the first time in your young life, and you cannot contain your excitement at the thought of breaking them again... _and again_."

With every word he spoke, his voice took on a more and more lascivious tone, and Aemilia didn't realized that she'd closed her eyes until they popped open at the sudden sensation of a tongue sweeping along the edge of her ear. She felt herself being pulled closer, into the heat of his body, and his voice melted into her ear again. "You say you don't want to be my plaything, but we both know that you've spent the last week in a state of utter obsession, crawling into your bed every night and praying that I would come to you, only to wake up alone and disappointed."

She let out a sound of despair and trembled as his lips kissed down her jaw. "I don't... I shouldn't want this," she breathed. "I am no fool... I know that nothing good can come of this."

"Perhaps your definition of 'good' needs to be broadened," he replied, fingers playing with the tops of the sleeves of her dress. "But, think of it this way... you've already given yourself to me once. You cannot get your virtue back by denying your desires. What harm is there in taking advantage of my interest in you?"

She laughed hollowly. "A body full of bruises, to start with."

Slowly, she felt his breath fade from her skin, and he turned her around to face him. He looked confused. "What?"

She looked away as she answered. "They healed quickly, of course, but... you left me quite bruised."

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for what to say, and she could hardly believe she was witnessing such a thing. "I... was not aware when... forgive me. I did not intend to cause you harm."

Aemilia simply stared for a moment at him as he tripped over his words. Perhaps he truly did feel badly about it. "Well, at least the bruises faded far quicker than your bite did."

His lips quirked. "But you look so lovely in a high collared dress, darling."

She rolled her eyes. "You can dance around me with your wit all night long, but it changes nothing."

"No," he agreed. "You are correct. I suggest that we come to an agreement."

She narrowed her eyes slightly as he turned and headed back towards the small table that held his refreshments. "What sort?"

He grabbed a small glass and began speaking. "You will agree to continue to come to me when I call. As often or as little as I please. You will share no other man's bed so long as you are sharing mine. You will speak not a word of our... arrangement to anyone."

He turned, the small glass now full of what looked like tea, and began walking back to her. "And what of your end of the agreement?"

"What would you prefer my end to entail?"

She was a little surprised, but she quickly answered. "Would it be unrealistic of me to request the same of you?"

He raised a brow. "How do you intend to call upon a Prince of Asgard?"

She considered that for a moment and decided that he was right, that probably wasn't terribly possible while discretion was imperative. "But as for discretion and lack of other lovers?"

"You want me all to yourself," he observed with a small grin.

"If I am to entertain the foolish idea of agreeing to this," she sighed, "I would prefer the terms to be equal. Although I can only imagine how much more of a fool it makes me to request such a thing."

"Is there anything else?"

She paused, thinking hard and quickly. "Yes. Your 'calls' will not interfere with my daily life - my singing, my theater work, my time with my family. You must respect my work and my commitments."

"And?"

She blinked. Her next words tumbled out before she had a chance to stop them. "Please do not be cruel."

Loki's gaze became blank. A moment passed before he spoke. "Do you agree to the terms I described to you?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then I agree to yours."

He held the glass in his hands out to her, and she looked at him questioningly.

"Contraceptive potion."

"Oh," she said, quickly taking the glass. She blinked as she looked into the light brown liquid, suddenly painfully shocked at what had just happened - had she really just agreed to this affair when only moments ago she'd been yelling and bemoaning the stupidity of her choices? The sight of the potion made it all very, very real very quickly, and her head began to spin.

"Last time I used a spell," Loki said absently. "But I wouldn't be so foolish as to trust myself to remember to cast it each time. I'll show you how to make the potion yourself after this night."

Aemilia nodded absently, still staring at the potion as if it was the line that she was about to skip across. A point of no return, perhaps. She looked up at Loki, who was studying her with his ever-calculating green eyes.

She didn't trust him for one minute to hold up his end of their agreement. _There is no more skilled liar in all the realms than I_, he had boasted on that fateful night only a week ago. She knew this would not end easily or without some degree of disaster. He was already far too obsessed with her, and she seemed to be unable to say no to him and mean it. It was a match made in Hel.

_But_... every word he'd spoken to her a few moments ago had been excruciatingly true. Simply due to the gender she'd been born with, she faced a future decided upon by others who thought that they knew best and cared little for her opinion. She did indeed want to rebel, and she couldn't have dreamed of a better way than to do what she was about to do, but she still knew that it was foolish.

Then again, once she was married and settled, how many chances would she get to ever be foolish again?

Would she ever feel anything even remotely comparable to what the prince had made her feel?

She swiftly brought the glass to her lips and drank. It tasted like herbs and citrus, not at all unpleasant, and she drained it in one gulp. She then held the empty glass out, and Loki took it wordlessly.

He vanished the cup with a lazy motion of his hand. Aemilia met his eyes once more and squared her shoulders as he chuckled quietly. It was annoying - he was always smirking or laughing.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly. "Surely you have your pick of maidens - why this... interest in me?"

"Why _not_?"

She sighed. "I want you to truly answer me."

"And I did," he replied. "Why should I not want you? Do you think yourself unworthy?"

"No," she answered truthfully. "I just... did not not expect a Prince of Asgard to bed me and then spend the next week disguised as a fly, watching me from the walls of my home."

He grinned. "I've not stopped watching you since the moment I watched you sing."

"But why?"

"Because I do as I please," he replied before making her yelp a tiny bit in surprise as he grabbed her hand and yanked her against him. "Do not question your Prince."

She accepted the fact that he wasn't going to answer and closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her neck. One of his hands tangled in her hair at the back of her head and gave it a tug, earning a him another little yelp as he ran his tongue over her pulse.

"My parents," she said, eyes still closed and voice breathless, "if they notice my absence -"

He jerked his head up and quickly said, "They will not. Your door is bewitched."

"Bewi-"

He kissed her lips and cut her off, and she felt her feet leave the ground as his arms scooped her up effortlessly. A moment later, she was tossed nearly carelessly into the glorious silken luxury of his bed, and she looked up at him with darkened eyes as he stood and took in the sight of her in his bed once more.

"Take it off," he said, his gaze gesturing to her dress.

"I need help," she half-smiled. "It laces in the back."

She then turned in the bed so that she faced the headboard, and she rose to her knees, pulling her dark hair to the side to show him the laces. She tried to breathe steadily as she felt his weight shift the bed beneath her, then felt her stomach flip when he kissed the back of her neck as his fingers began plucking at the laces.

"You ask your lover to help rid you of the dress you wore to meet the man who would be your intended," he said lowly against her ear, and Aemilia nearly blushed at the word lover. "You would have let me have you right there, as he and your family dined in the next room, wouldn't you?"

She closed her eyes and shivered as his lips kissed teasingly along her ear.

"Answer me."

"Probably," she admitted, feeling pathetic and daring and aroused all at the same time.

She felt the material at her back being pried apart, and then Loki's hands were grasping her skirt and pulling up. She raised her arms and let him remove the dress, leaving her only her slip underneath, and then his arms pulled her back against his chest. One of his hands then grasped her by the jaw and wrenched her face up and to the side so that he could kiss her, hard at first and then deeply as it went on, and his other hand began to reacquaint itself with her body.

She grasped his hair as he touched her, both under and over her slip, holding and squeezing her breast and then moving down to quickly push up the thin fabric and feel her skin against his palm, all as he kissed her into a stupor. She came back to life when she felt his fingers tickling under her navel, slowly trailing down to the hem of her underwear before sliding beneath it.

He broke from her lips to breathe as he touched her, resting his forehead against hers as he grinned. "So little effort makes you so ready, my lady."

She gave a soft groan as he started gently rubbing her. "I've been at a constant state of readiness for the last seven days," she said, almost surprised by her own words.

"I know," he said, kissing her jaw and making her wonder exactly how much he'd observed during his time as a fly. "Did you relieve that tension yourself?"

"No," she answered truthfully, gasping as he slowly increased the pace. She knew she wouldn't last long. "I was too angry at you... I wouldn't..."

She felt his smirk against her cheek. "You must understand... I could not resist the chance to watch you slowly become so crazed with desperation that you would act as you have today."

Barely hearing his words, Aemilia tried to blindly shift one of her hands to his leg behind her for balance, and instead brushed his own clothed arousal with her palm. She didn't correct herself, instead taking hold and teasing him, feeling his body tense behind her but his fingers didn't falter in the slightest. She tilted her head and kissed him herself before she moved her hand inside his pants, finding nearly no room but making it work as best as she could, moving along his length at the same pace as he was taking with her. He stopped mid-kiss to let out a strained huff, and she smiled against his lips.

He answered with a sudden change in pace that left her scrambling to keep up her own efforts, and she abandoned them altogether when the sudden, mild pain of his teeth on her neck set off the first wave of her release. She arched and shook helplessly in his arms, and he didn't let go until she slowly went limp and sagged with satisfaction.

He laid her down gently on the bed, and she watched through her mild haze as he did away with his clothes as well as the slip on her own body. Everything else was a million miles away, irrelevant and unworthy of the slightest bit of thought, incapable of breaching the moment as she felt his cool, bare skin cover hers. His weight upon her was light and controlled as he dipped his head down to lavish attention to her breasts, and it reignited her passion within an instant. She twisted her fingers into his impossibly soft black hair and drew her legs up around his hips, and he lifted his head to grin down at her flushed face. "Eager, are we?"

Aemilia responded by pulling him up for a kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist and then letting out a squeak of surprise when he suddenly rolled them over. She found herself straddling his hips, brushing softly against his hardness as he held her firmly in place. "Ride me."

She paused, looking him in the eyes and holding her hands on his chest for balance, just a moment's hesitation passing before she lowered herself down upon him. She moved slowly, wincing at the slight sting as he filled her and closing her eyes as it grew into a pain that made a flash of unpleasant heat come over her.

"Relax," she heard him say when she'd slid fully over him. "It will fade as you move."

She nodded, having not expected the sudden pain, but she slowly raised up and then lowered back down, then again, and the pain indeed faded with each new movement. When the last trace of discomfort had gone and been replaced by little sparks of pleasure, she moaned softly, then felt Loki's hands grip her hips tightly in his hands. He then guided her movements, rotating her gently around him rather than simply bobbing her up and down, and she followed his lead beautifully. Soon she had figured out her own rhythm, sitting back slightly to better angle herself for her own pleasure, and she suddenly felt a rush of an unfamiliar feeling - power.

Naturally, it only lasted for a moment before Loki suddenly sat up, hoisting her up in his arms and then tossing her on her back, her head down at the foot of the bed and feet up near his pillows as he plunged back inside of her. Power wasn't something he liked to share, clearly, but the change of position allowed him to kiss her into oblivion, and she didn't protest.

He drove into her, his mouth on hers and on her neck and at her ear, and as her second release built languidly, his came hurtling towards him far more quickly. He lifted his chest from hers and shoved a hand between them with a growl, holding himself up with a forearm next to her head as he whispered harshly into her ear, "Come, Aemilia."

She almost screamed at the sudden added sensation of his fingers, then reeled when he repeated his command in a desperately lustful tone, and it was all far too much - she could do nothing but oblige, in fact beating him to the end, clenching down around him so tightly that he bit her shoulder to keep from biting a hole into his own flesh.

In some vague part of her mind that still functioned in the moments that passed after, Aemilia wondered if she would ever get used to this. She had lived now for nearly three centuries - making her still quite the young Asgardian maiden - and in those years, had never been passionately kissed. She had never been spoken to salaciously, never stepped a single toe into a bed that wasn't her own. Now, however, she found herself staring through heavy-lidded eyes at a Prince's palace ceiling as he lay over her, still inside of her, breathing contentedly against her neck as she ran her fingers gently through his now-messy hair. She was now his lover, officially, and he hers.

She knew she might look back one day and cry with anger and frustration at her current actions. She knew that Loki had all the power. She knew that she was a long way from truly knowing or understanding him, if she ever would. She knew that she shouldn't feel as safe as she did in his bed.

And yet, despite all of that, as of that moment, she regretted nothing.

Eventually, Loki rolled to his side, taking Aemilia with him, and she looked up into his green eyes as his his thumb rubbed over her hip absently. He met her gaze and let a few moments of silence pass before he asked softly, "What are you thinking about, dear Aemilia?"

"Would you answer me truthfully if I asked you the same?"

Slowly, a smile spread on Loki's face. His lover was not foolish. He'd chosen well. "Right now, yes I would. Because truthfully," he said, briefly kissing her lips before turning to her neck, "at the present moment, I can think of little else but how deeply I want to taste you again."

Aemilia gulped against her will and closed her eyes as he slowly kissed and slithered down her body, giving in fully to the truth of her new reality and finding that, all things considered... maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

**A/N: so! This is officially not a oneshot, but an incredibly long work in progress! Which is exciting and terrifying for me all at once! Lol, but anyway, so much thanks to reviewers and those who alerted/faved. I do hope you'll pl stick with this story as it develops. I plan to cover the entire established timeline (including TDW which I saw tonight, holy crap, no words, I'm in a fangirl coma, gahhh asdfghjkl) Thanks for reading and please do leave your thoughts, good or bad, it does help the muse a lot :D **


	3. Chapter 3

Against the odds, Aemilia did her very best to find order and organization within the new normal bestowed to her life. In the weeks following hers and Loki's new agreement, she learned how to spend her days acting like a normal human being and her nights being something else entirely, and she fought to keep the two sides from overlapping.

Dagr was away training for the next month, so she at least did not have to deal with his presence for the time being. The courtship still loomed over her head in the form of her mother, however, and no matter how often Aemilia tried to express her dismay and reluctance, it changed nothing. Each time she came away from another futile conversation with Ayre, Aemilia channeled her anger and frustration into her nightly activities, and she knew she shouldn't - it was allowing the lines she'd drawn between her days and nights to blur - but she didn't know what else to do.

Loki seemed to especially relish the nights that she'd come to him angry. Slowly, the more she came to him, the more she let her guard down and began to establish herself in the bedroom. He taught her how to touch, how to kiss, how to use her body to please his, how to use hers to maximize her own pleasure, and he wasn't at all reluctant to lavish praise upon her quick learning skills. The better she became at knowing what he liked and how he liked it, the more her confidence grew, and she found it all surprisingly empowering. He didn't just use her for his own purposes and then send her away, not a single time, and she couldn't pretend that it didn't surprise her. But, she was slowly concluding that he did it for his own ego purposes - the more she moaned and fell apart at his touch, the more he could revel in his own impressive abilities as a lover.

And they _were_ impressive, that she full well knew without needing prior experience. She had to actively not think about his touch when she sang, or think about his seemingly tireless tongue as she studied lines for two new productions she was auditioning for at the theater. Just as she was learning what made him tick, he only became better attuned to her as the nights passed, and she could almost be embarrassed at how quickly and how often he could make her see stars. She'd had no idea her body was capable of what he made it do, and she was shocked at her own appetite for him - Loki did not give her nights off, and she was sleeping less and less, but yet every night when she would retire to her room at home, she would find herself nearly giddy in anticipation of feeling his arms enclose around her from behind and vanishing her to his palace room.

Aside from light banter and topics related to their activities, they did not talk a great deal. Aemilia didn't know what he did with his days - he'd either gotten better at watching her in secret or didn't do it as often - and he wasn't overly concerned with what she did with hers. She didn't stay the night in his room - he always took her back to hers when he'd exhausted her for the night - and some nights, she noticed that he would barely kiss her lips. She thought it was strange, but all of it was strange, and she supposed that this was simply how these strictly-sexual affairs happened.

In those first few weeks, she became used to her new routine, and she depended on it to keep her sane. She felt a semblance of control by having her days to herself, and she clung to to it as tightly as she clung to Loki's silk sheets at night. As long as she could continue to function normally without anyone discovering her secret, it made her feel much better about the inevitable impending doom of what she'd gotten herself into.

Then, naturally, Loki went and ruined what little peace she had and couldn't have been more pleased with himself about it.

She had stayed late at the theater one day, rehearsing with a few of her friends as they prepared for parts they hoped to land in two new plays. One was a sweeping historical epic based on one of many Asgardian wars of old, and another was an adaptation of a classic romance that was among Aemilia's personal favorites. She was trying out for parts in both, competing friendly with a few of her friends, and on this day - like many others - she was the last of them to leave.

She was gathering her things in the dressing room, tossing her two scripts into a satchel and barely glancing up when she heard the door open. She heard the swishing of skirts and then looked behind her to see one of her friends, a blonde named Esa, hurrying in with her own bag in her hands.

"I forgot my script," she smiled, and Aemilia smiled back.

"Good thing you remembered before you went all the way home," Aemilia said before standing and fixing her sights on the door.

"Oh, yes. Hey - Aemilia?"

She turned mid-stride and smiled. "Yes?"

"Since we're alone," the girl said, dropping her voice down lower, "I was wondering if I could ask you something."

"Sure," Aemilia shrugged.

"You seem... _different_ lately," Esa smiled. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but... something's going on with you, isn't it?"

_Damn_. Aemilia feigned confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know... something about the way you carry yourself. It's different. I noticed the same thing in my sister a few years ago. She had..."

"What?" Aemilia pressed.

"Well, she had... you know," she wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, "with a guy for the first time."

Aemilia's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Esa'a eyes widened. "So I'm right!"

"No, I -"

"Is it Dagr?"

"No," Aemilia snapped a little too quickly, as if the very thought repulsed her.

"Then who?"

Aemilia sighed. "Nobody, Esa. Really."

"Then why are you blushing?"

She laughed, not meaning for it to sound as nervous as it did. "I'm not!"

"You're hiding something," Esa grinned, stepping closer, and Aemilia sighed again. "Come on, you can trust me. Have I ever betrayed your trust before?"

She hadn't, but that was because Aemilia hadn't trusted Esa in particular with much in general. In fact, her secrets had been few and far between up until some weeks ago. "Well... no."

"So tell me!" Esa smiled. "Is it a noble?" When she got no response, she pressed, "A lesser noble? Nine Realms!" her hands flew to her face. "Your night at the palace!"

Aemilia felt a slight sense of panic coming on. Esa surely wasn't this clever, was she?

"Who was it? If it wasn't one of the nobles... was it a warrior?"

Aemilia rolled her eyes. "No, because this person that you think exists does not."

"Fandral the Dashing, perhaps?" Esa speculated. "You did mention how he flirted with you. You also said that the Prince had words with you, as well."

"Esa -"

"Is it the Prince?" Esa's eyes positively sparkled with the scandalous suggestion.

"Firstly, no, and secondly, I do not know which prince you refer to."

"Prince Thor, of course. Not the lesser one," Esa said, crinkling her nose in distaste. "Prince Loki's so... _pale_. And skinny."

"Not all women prefer Thor's level of brawniness," Aemilia shrugged. "But I can assure you, nothing transpired between myself and either Prince. Although, it bears saying that Prince Loki was far less drunk and grabby than Prince Thor, so perhaps you ought to reevaluate your opinion of the 'leaser prince'."

Edna's eyes twitched in what appeared to be surprise. "I don't believe it."

"Believe what?" Aemilia asked, very close to exasperation.

"Prince Loki," she said in disbelief. "It _was_ him."

"No," Aemilia said firmly. "Why won't you believe me that there's nobody?"

"Because it's obvious!" Esa said, smiling. "Look at you! You are so flustered!"

"Because you're questioning me as if this were an interrogation!" Aemilia protested. "This is ridiculous! I told you there is no one, so leave it!"

Esa never stopped grinning, but she did eventually nod and then make for the door. Aemilia sighed as the girl passed her, staring at the floor when she heard her speak again. "It's a shame, you know."

"What?" Aemilia asked, not bothering to look behind her.

Suddenly, a large hand snaked around her side to press against her stomach, and a decidedly not female voice replied in her ear, "How bad of a liar you are, my dear Aemilia."

Eyes wide, she spun around and gaped at the sight of Loki mere inches away from her, dressed in what she could only describe as "semi-casual" armor, wearing his usual grin with a hint of something darker in his green eyes. She looked around the room wildly, of course finding no sign of Esa, because Esa had not ever been there in the first place. Anger quickly rose to replace her shock.

"This - is my work!" she sputtered. "You can't just show up here like this!"

He chuckled through his nose and brought a hand to her cheek. "Oh, Aemilia, we've been over this before. I do as I please."

"But you agreed -"

"I never agreed to not come to you during daylight hours," Loki pointed out. "I simply have not chosen to until today."

She didn't like this - the routine she'd been clinging to for normality's sake had just been obliterated, and Loki couldn't have been happier about it. "But -"

"Oh come now," he cooed, closing the already barely-there distance between them and taking a fistful of her hair in one hand while the other arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him. "Don't tell me you've never fantasized about something of this sort before."

At the moment she couldn't recall one way or the other, but she knew he was probably right. She closed her eyes as his lips pressed to her neck, sending little sparks of electricity through her chest and straight down between her thighs. The fight was over before it had even begun.

Before she knew it, she was sitting directly in front of the dressing room mirror, her back to it and her legs wrapped around the Prince in front of her, vaguely hearing the sound of a prop mask and little pieces of makeup skittering to the floor around her. Loki's hands were on her hips and his lips were dancing along her cheek and then her jaw, everywhere but her lips, and suddenly he pulled her to the very edge of the dressing table, and her hands desperately grasped his hair for balance.

"I must say," he said lowly, pulling down a small sleeve of her dress and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder, "I do appreciate the kind words you thought you spoke to your friend regarding myself."

She rolled her eyes, wanting to throttle him for tricking her. Instead she gave his hair a good yank - by now she knew it would only further turn him on but she did it anyway - and pried his face away from her neckline to glare at him. He only smirked down at her and added, "Please, allow me to express my gratitude properly."

His lips crashed upon hers, and she reeled under the force of it. She would have been content to be only kissed by him for countless minutes, but Loki tended to use kisses merely strategically, a tool to make her do as he wanted, and it always worked perfectly. A moment or two of his tongue teasing her own and his teeth nipping at her lip followed by his hands wandering and squeezing and feeling her rapidly responding body left her a panting, pliant mess of desire, just as he'd intended.

Her long skirt was pushed up to her waist, and when he ground against her, she felt every bit of him through his clothes, further spiking her adrenaline as he suddenly pulled her down to her feet and then spun her around. The sudden motion left her almost dizzy, but his hand slid up the front of her neck from behind and grasped her chin, and he growled into her ear as he forced her face up, "_Look_."

Her eyes shot up and her breath evaporated as she found herself staring at Loki and herself in the large dressing room mirror. His hand fell from her chin and moved back to her hair as the other held her dress up around her hips, and he stared at her reflection with the same strikingly hungry look that put shivers in her spine each night. She could do little else but stare mildly slack-jawed at the mirror, taking in the sight of herself in the arms of the dark Prince, and she found the sight to be almost intoxicating.

They looked _good_ together. She hadn't known until that moment.

His hand in her hair tightened and he yanked her head to the side, latching lips to her neck as she let one of her hands snake up into his hair, her eyes never leaving the mirror. His teeth grazed over her skin and his tongue soothed over where he bit softly, earning him a little mewl from her lips before the hand of his that was holding her dress moved to her leg underneath, then to her thigh as the skirt hung pinned between his forearm and her hip. He trailed his fingers up the smooth skin and brushed her center, and he glanced up to find that she was still gazing heatedly at their reflections.

"You _like_ this," he smirked against her ear. She sighed as his hand began its work on her, not bothering to deny it, and he pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist as her fingers destroyed his previously immaculate black hair.

He did not mean to draw this out, she knew by the quickening pace of his fingers, and it was only when she'd begun rolling her hips against his hand and tugging a little too hard in his hair that he withdrew his hand gave her an ungentle push from behind. She stumbled forward with a surprised yelp and braced herself on the table, palms down and gripping the surface, and impossibly quickly, she felt herself bare to him underneath her haphazardly shoved up dress. One of his boots kicked softly at her feet, nudging them farther apart, and then she felt his hardness brush against her from behind as his arms enclosed around her once more. She looked up to the mirror to find his lips centimeters from her ear, and a small smirk on his lips as he met her mirrored gaze. "This won't take long."

Indeed it wouldn't, she knew as he slid within her from behind. Her body had become literally molded to his in the last few weeks, and she no longer felt any traces of discomfort when first entered her. She felt only a pleasant ache that would only grow as he moved, and this time it was amplified even more than usual by the odd but fascinatingly arousing act of watching it all unfold before her eyes.

Mostly she watched Loki. She didn't always watch him like this, usually barely able to see or comprehend anything through the pleasure he wrought, and when she did try, it would be just a glance here or there before her eyes fluttered shut of their own need. But now, at this vantage point, she could see him clearly, and what she saw made her chest ache.

His eyes were closed and his lips were parted against her cheek as he breathed roughly through his mouth, not a trace of strain or anything besides lust and contentment on his pale face. His hair framed his face, looking perfectly disheveled from the deliberate work of her fingers, and as a titillating groan left his lips, she came to realize for the first time how truly beautiful he really was.

As if he could sense her thoughts, his eyes opened and met hers in the mirror, and his pace quickened simultaneously. He wrenched her up slightly and she reached up and over her shoulder to grab his hair for balance, her other hand still bracing on the counter, and one of his arms pinned her back to his chest as the other sent his hand back between her thighs to urge her release from her.

Suddenly overwhelmed, her eyes closed just like they always did at this point, but this time Loki's voice in her ear demanded otherwise. "No. Open your eyes. Watch yourself as you come."

Her eyes popped open and she let out an undignified moan at his words, but she only halfway obeyed his commands. When she felt herself begin to spiral down her end, instead of watching herself, she fixed her eyes upon the Prince behind her. His tongue was drawing up her neck and his chin was hovering above her shoulder, his own gaze not breaking from her for even a second. The sheer hunger and intensity of his stare seemed to amplify her sudden spasms of pleasure, and she fell happily into oblivion, taking him with her as she went, and she somehow kept her eyes open to watch him.

After, as Loki held her limply and Aemilia felt oxygen return to her brain, she watched something peculiar take place within the mirror. When he had reached his own climax she watched his walls come down, his guard giving way to the temporary ecstasy and leaving him looking... _young_, and even vulnerable for the short moment in time that it had lasted. Then, as he opened his eyes and drew in a deep breath, the walls came back up, and he looked to her with a smirk.

"You continue to pleasantly surprise me, little one."

He withdrew from her and straightened her up with his hands before he stepped back. Her skirt hit the floor and she absently pulled the sleeves of her dress back to where they were supposed to be as she turned to face her lover. Aside from the state of his hair, he looked like he might have just strolled in from some royal event. Meanwhile, Aemilia knew she looked a wreck.

She stared at him, still breathing a bit heavily, fighting the sudden and overwhelming urge to grab him and kiss him. There was no clear reason to - their "quickie" was over, and she knew she wasn't supposed to want to kiss him right now. They weren't a couple, they were lovers - but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him, not while his hair was hanging so freely around his face, framing it's paleness in a contrast that made his green eyes suddenly seem like the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.

"You're rather quiet," he said, breaking her train of thought and stepping closer to her. His gaze met hers before moving up slightly, and she looked down as he ran his hand over her hair - not through it, but just above the strands, from the top of her head to the very tips of her hair. "There. You are presentable once more."

"Thank you," she replied, in a tone so soft it made her cringe. She looked up to him and found herself unable to look away from his lips, wanting nothing else in the world but another taste of them, but all he did was smirk and graze her chin with his finger before turning and walking away.

"Until tonight, my lady."

She sighed and brought a palm to her face, sagging her shoulders and wondering how in the world she had yet to feel even an ounce of regret since this had all begun.

* * *

Contrary to popular opinion - or at least his brother's opinion - Thor was not a bumbling idiot. He was fully aware and accepting of the fact that he did not not share Loki's level of intelligence, in a broader sense, but Thor was more than clever in his own right. For example, he knew his brother better than anyone, and where others fell for his lies without so much as blinking, Thor had learned how to see through many of them from a very young age.

On this day, Thor had managed to drag Loki with himself, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif on a hunting venture outside of the shining city. It was the first time in weeks that he'd managed to get Loki to actually spend a day with him, and Thor had enjoyed it greatly - it had been a day of good-natured jests and good talks, all of which were far too loud to have gotten them any success in their hunt, but that was fine. Thor had missed these days spent with his brother and his friends, but on the ride back to the palace, Loki had said he wanted to conduct a brief search for some sort of plant he needed for potions near the mountainside and would catch up with the group near the city's main entrance. They had been waiting now for nearly twenty minutes, and the Warriors Three had grown restless.

Thor sent them on their way, telling them to go ahead while he waited, and they did so, but Sif stayed by Thor's side. It was not more than five minutes later that Thor caught a glimpse of his brother atop his horse, finally arriving at the designated meeting place, and the first thing Thor noticed was that Loki was not riding towards them from the direction of the mountainside.

"Brother," Loki greeted jovially, riding up to Thor's side and ignoring Sif entirely. "Did I keep the warriors waiting for too long?"

"You had me worried, Loki," Thor said seriously as the three horses began trotting towards the city. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"In a manner of speaking," Loki replied vaguely, and Thor narrowed his blue eyes upon his brother's appearance.

Before Loki's departure from the group, he had looked as he always did - perfectly put together under a head of perfectly smooth raven locks that a single strand did not touch his face from. Even when riding on a galloping horse, Loki's hair barely moved, and Thor knew it was a testament to his brother's rather astounding amount of vanity that this was so. However, that same hair was now quite free-flowing, and Thor could read the almost imperceptible self-satisfaction written on Loki's face even if nobody else could.

Thor couldn't help but grin, still staring at Loki as the younger brother glanced up and raised a dark eyebrow in return. "Despairing at my superior looks again, brother?"

"Are you ready to tell me her name?" Thor asked, still smiling broadly.

"Whose name?" Sif asked, interest suddenly sparked.

"I know not of what you speak," Loki said in a bored tone, looking ahead of them as they crossed into the city's open gates.

"Since when are you so intent on keeping this sort of thing to yourself?" Thor asked, genuine confusion coloring his words. "Surely you cannot think me so dull as to not notice the signs, Loki."

"Oh, I do not think I care to hear where this conversation is likely headed," Sif chuckled before speeding up ahead of them. She glanced back to the princes and smiled. "See you both at the hall!"

Loki gave her a curt nod, and Thor returned her warm smile before turning back to his brother. "Well?"

"Well what?" Loki shot back, mildly irritably.

"Out with it!" Thor grinned. "Tell me about this secret love of yours!"

"There is no secret love, I assure you," Loki replied through somewhat gritted teeth.

"Loki," Thor said slowly, "remember whom you are speaking to. I know you better than anyone in this realm, with the possible exception of Mother, do I not?"

"You do," Loki conceded.

"Then you must know that your lies do not always trick me as they used to. I have watched you disappear like clockwork every night for the last several weeks, and sometimes you are gone to only Heimdall knows where for the entire day. And your mood has been unprecedentedly pleasant ever since this began!"

Loki grinned. Heimdall knew nothing of his whereabouts, but Thor didn't need to know that. "I do not disappear. I retire to my chambers, nothing more."

"But with whom?"

Loki rolled his eyes.

"Did you also think I would not notice that you were not riding back from the mountainside as you had claimed?" Thor asked. "In fact, it looked to me as if you had just ridden out of the city and was circling back to fool me."

Loki did _not_ think Thor would notice - not because Thor was too stupid, but because he genuinely thought Thor would not have cared.

"And I should not even mention your hair, Loki - it looks as it does when you first stumble from your chambers in the mornings."

"My _hair_, Thor?" Loki asked incredulously. "Are you jesting?"

"No!" Thor laughed. "I am only confused as to why you seem so determined to keep me in the dark about this! Since when do we keep such secrets from one another? Are you ashamed of this girl?"

"No, but -"

"So there _is_ a girl!" Thor laughed.

Now fully irritated and sick of this conversation, Loki turned to Thor and said, "Why is it so hard for you to grasp that maybe, for once in our lives, I would like to have _one_ thing to myself and not have to bother sharing it with you like I do everything else?"

Thor's previous smile quickly faded to a confused frown at Loki's unexpectedly angry words. "That's truly how you feel?"

As quickly as the anger had appeared, it vanished and Loki's expression became his usual blank, neutral one. "It matters not."

"I disagree."

Loki didn't want to argue, so he kept his mouth shut. Thor did as well, until he couldn't contain his next question.

"Is it serious?"

"No," Loki scoffed. "Only a bit of fun."

Thor furrowed his brows, wondering why in the world Loki would then want so desperately to keep it to himself if it was not even a serious interest he had in this mystery maiden.

Which brought Thor to his next question. "It _is_ a maiden, yes?"

"Shut up."

* * *

"Aemilia! You're home!"

Aemilia closed the front doors of her home behind her and immediately felt a sense of dread overcome her at the sheer enthusiasm in her mother's voice. It was rarely a good omen. Ayre appeared then in the hallway, grasping a piece of paper and an envelope in her manicured hands as her blinding smile further scared Aemilia to death. "I have the best news!"

Biting back a sarcastic guess, Aemilia plastered a smile on her face. "Really?"

"Yes! Your hair looks especially nice today," Ayre absently commented, touching the brown and red waves that had been magically smoothed by Loki before refocusing on her news. "So - this just came from Dagr. He will be having some time off after his training has ended, and he has invited you us to a banquet at the palace! The banquet is being held in honor of a delegation from Vanaheim, and -"

Aemilia didn't hear much after "banquet at the palace". Last time she had been invited there, it had been impossibly exciting and most welcome news, but now all she could think about was the stress and misery of enduring a night on Dagr's arm while her mother flitted about happily with the nobility and Loki's inevitable presence put her so far on edge that she would probably end up drinking herself into an idiotic stupor to cope.

Then, still not hearing her mother rambling on about the banquet, Aemilia suddenly mentally slapped herself. She was a maiden of very noble stock, being courted by a respected and reasonably handsome member of the Royal Guard while also being ravished nightly by one of Asgard's very own princes, and this would be her return to the palace after having impressed the King and his court with her voice only a month prior. What had she to fear or dread? What was her disadvantage? How many girls would utterly kill to be in her place?

Then she mentally slapped herself yet again. Was her double life and growing list of deceptions really something to be proud of?

"... So that's taken care of, and I've already sent word to our dressmaker to make something fabulous up for us, and fast... oh! Come with me, let me show you what I was thinking we could do with that hair of yours..."

Aemilia sighed and allowed her mother to drag her through the house by her wrist, eventually deciding that, as was the expression, she had made her bed, and now she simply had to suck it up and lie in it.

* * *

Loki read the same paragraph of the open book in front of him five times without even halfway comprehending the words. He sat at his desk in his room, staring sightlessly at the book as he twirled a small hair clip in one of his hands while the other hand held up his forehead. His lover had unknowingly left the little thing behind during one of her recent nights there, unlike the first time she had left a hair clip in his possession, and also unlike that first time, he hadn't given it back.

He closed the book with a sigh and glanced at at time - still a bit early for him to go and fetch her from her home. He continued to twirl the little violet-jeweled clip between his fingers, not at all surprised by how this little singer had gotten under his skin in a decidedly short amount of time. He'd forgotten how brilliant it was to take a girl with no experience and teach her, mold her into a lover who knew only his wants and desires and those of nobody else. She caught on to everything so quickly, and exceeded his expectations again and again, and rather than become bored with her, he found himself looking forward to their nights with more enthusiasm each passing day.

She was perfect for what he wanted - she did not try to converse with him too much or bore him with details of her life that he didn't care to hear, but she was also not at all meek or fully submissive. She gave in to him at every turn, yes, but she did so only because she completely wanted to. He sensed the fire within her and also sensed that she was holding it back. She was like a caged animal, forced within the confines of a life and a society that didn't do her spirit justice, and her limits were pushed more and more the closer her engagement loomed on the horizon. She distracted herself with him and their affair, but he knew she'd crack one day. He would probably be a contributing factor to that cracking, if he was being honest.

He couldn't help it. She was fun. He watched her shock herself with how wanton she could be, how utterly a slave to pleasure she became at his urging, and it made him want her all the more. He wondered what more he could coax of her and what kind of creature he could mold her into, given enough time and lack of outside interference.

Thor had been a fool to refer to her as a "secret love". Loki had no illusions about himself - he did not fall in love, he became obsessed. Then over time, the obsession would wane, he would get bored, and he would move on. It didn't happen as often as it used to in his earlier youth, however, and Aemilia had caught him by surprise. She was the first to garner his attention in longer than he cared to count. He'd almost forgotten how distracting it was to be so obsessed with another creature - it was actually quite hard work.

He glanced at his old clock on the wall again, and promptly frowned. The time was crawling by at a snail's pace.

That was just too bad, he decided. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair, then tucked her hair clip into his pocket and vanished. Aemilia would just have to deal with an early night.

* * *

After dinner, Aemilia made haste for her room and had her handmaiden draw her a bath. She was tired and frustrated and knew that Loki would be showing up soon, and she at least wanted to have a good bath before he came and deprived her of yet another night's sleep. She also needed something to help cleanse her mind of her mother's overbearing glee regarding the palace banquet.

Once she was in the bath, she dismissed her handmaiden and went limp in the lavender-scented hot water. It felt marvelous, and she let her mind go blissfully blank as she leaned her head back against the rim of the tub and closed her eyes.

She didn't realize that she'd fallen asleep until a very familiar silken voice awoke her with her a start.

"It's dangerous to fall asleep in the bath, you know."

Her entire body jerked so hard in surprise that she sloshed the Prince with water, which wasn't too hard to do, as he was perched comfortably on the side of her tub. When her shock ebbed, she placed a hand over her chest and rolled her wide eyes as she tried to slow her breathing. "For Valhalla's sake..."

He chuckled and patted his clothes dry where she'd splashed him. "I'm not intruding, am I?" he asked cheekily.

"Not at all," she replied sarcastically, almost moving her arms to cover herself and then realizing how stupid that idea was. "You would never intrude on me in my own bath, and certainly not in a dressing room, either. You are the very picture of propriety, Your Grace."

He did adore her mouth. "Have care how you speak, my lady. You wouldn't dare speak disrespectfully to your Prince, would you?"

"I would never dream of it," she replied, watching his eyes leave hers and trail down what flesh was not hidden by the water. His hair looked exactly as it had earlier, and the seemingly genuine, non-predatory smile on his face was something she wasn't quite used to. Just his proximity was enough to set her skin on fire. "Perhaps the Prince would forgive my insolence if I knelt before him and... apologized."

His eyes snapped back up to hers as quick as Thor's lightning. She'd caught him by surprise - for that matter, she couldn't believe what she'd just said either - and it took a second or two before the grin she knew well spread across his lips. "Such... vulgar innuendo for a lady of nobility. You make me proud."

"Only proud?"

His grin widened, and she was suddenly no longer exhausted. She was, however, quite done with her bath, and he seemed to sense this. He held out his hand and one of her towels suddenly materialized in his grasp, and he stood as he motioned for her to do the same. "Come on, little temptress. Let's get you dry so I can make you wet again."

Heat flushed her cheeks as she complied. She could sleep when she was dead.

* * *

It wasn't until much, much later that night, as Aemilia found herself thoroughly worn out and once again exhausted in the midst of Loki's immense bed that she was able to think vaguely clearly again. She was under the bed's thinnest sheet and watched Loki as he lay next to her, not covered by anything, his eyes mildly glazed as he curled the end of a lock of her hair around his finger. He looked tired himself, and she found herself wishing for the first time that he'd let her stay tonight. She'd never _not_ slept alone - the alternative sounded like something that would be nice.

She knew he wouldn't allow it, however. That was fine. It was surely for the best.

"There is to be a palace banquet honoring a delegation from Vanaheim soon," she spoke softly. "Dagr's invited me and my family."

His eyes met hers, vague interest breaking through his haze. "Oh?"

She nodded. He was lying so close to her, yet no part of their bodies were touching, save for his fingers playing with her hair. She again found her gaze drifting to his lips - she wanted to kiss them until they both fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

"Then I suppose that I shall see you there," Loki said simply.

"You won't..."

"I won't what?"

She sighed. "You won't... do anything, will you?"

He smirked. "You mean give us away? Stare at you longingly as your pathetic intended dances you poorly down my father's hall? Steal you away for a dance of our own and cause a scandal with the way that I'd hold you and place my lips upon your neck?"

She pursed her lips. He didn't have to make fun of her to make his point.

"No, no, Aemilia," he said, pulling the sheet from her body and then crawling on top of her. He cradled her face between his hands and looked down at her lips as he said, "The question is, will _you_ give us away?"

He leaned in, and her eyes closed as she prepared for the kiss that she welcomed from him so eagerly. Her lips were already parted and waiting for his, but they never came. She opened her eyes to find herself back in her room, alone in her own bed. With a huff of exasperation, she grabbed a pillow and placed it over her head before promptly passing out.

**A/N: eeeeeeeeee this has gotten a lot of followers! Thanks equally to the reviewers and followers, I'm super grateful to you all :D I'm also grateful as always to midnightwings96 for her help and encouragement, she's da best :D anyway, hope you all like this slightly shorter chapter. Next one's gonna be gigantic like the first two. Anyway, love you all, keep the reviews coming :D**


	4. Chapter 4

It was becoming more and more clear to Aemilia, as time went on, that Loki didn't take her seriously. Ever. And she knew that it was her fault.

He thought that he had her wrapped around his finger, or perhaps one of the curved horns of his ridiculous helmet that he favored for formal occasions, and she couldn't entirely deny that it was true. He had a way of giving her what she desired but still leaving her in desperate need of more, causing the cycle to repeat itself like clockwork. He toyed with her, tormented her, and still she came willingly to his bed nearly each night of the week, then was loathe to leave it when he'd had his fill of her.

He thought he had all the power, and perhaps he did. But Aemilia was tiring of his attitude. She may share his bed, but he did not have her heart, and she was still quite her own person, and she could play games as well.

"Oh, this design is exquisite..." Ayre raved as she looked over sketches of Aemilia's dress design for the upcoming palace banquet. She and her daughter had come to their favored dressmaker's shop to finalize plans for both of their gowns, and Ayre treated this as the most important of business. "I am not entirely sure of the color, however... it's a bit pale."

"The color can be changed to anything you'd like, of course, my lady," the dressmaker, and elderly and remarkably talented woman, said quickly, and Ayre swiftly turned to face her daughter.

"Darling? Have you any preference for your dress's color?" she asked as Aemilia drifted about the shop, absently touching samples of rich fabrics that hung about, lost in thoughts that she kept wholly to herself.

Aemilia blinked, clearing away her thoughts as she approached her mother and took the sketch from her hands. The design was indeed beautiful - long sleeved fitted gown that flared beautifully at the knees into a small train, tastefully low neckline, subtlety embellished bodice. It was a bit more fitted and curve-hugging than what she was used to, but she had no qualms about pulling it off.

"Perhaps a deep scarlet," the dressmaker suggested. "With your skin tone, it would be stunning."

"No," Ayre quickly shook her head, and Aemilia agreed. Fashion was one of the few areas that they nearly were always of one mind about.

As she stared at the sketch, imagining herself wearing it to the banquet, dancing along the floors of the golden palace hall, she was suddenly struck by an idea that only she would know was truly devious.

"Deep green," Aemilia said, handing the sketch back to the dressmaker. "And the embellishments a light gold."

"Oh, why didn't I think of that? It will be stunning in contrast with your skin and hair," Ayre smiled, patting Aemilia's shoulder. She smiled back weakly to her mother, thinking it ironic that she saw fit to give her daughter a say in the color of a gown but not in the choice of a husband. But she bit her tongue, already deep in contemplation of other, currently more important things, like how to use this upcoming event to begin turning the tables on her domineering lover.

* * *

Aemilia began to both dread and look forward to the banquet with equal fervor the nearer it drew. She dreaded it because it meant the end of Dagr's training was also getting closer, and that meant their courtship would soon no longer be a stagnant, theoretical thing. However, she also looked forward to the event, because to her surprise, Loki had been called away on royal business to Alfheim along with the Queen, and the banquet would be the first that she had seen of him in nearly two weeks.

At first, she hadn't known what to do with herself when he was no longer whisking her away each night. The first several nights she had caught up on her sleep that he'd been keeping her from, but then she began to find herself unable to sleep at all. She missed him desperately, missed his touch and his titillating words and his enormous bed, and she could hardly believe how excited she became the closer the banquet drew.

When the day finally did arrive at last, she wake awoken by her mother before the sun had fully risen in the sky. Preparations for such an outing began at such ridiculous hours when Ayre was in charge, because according to her, such time was necessary for a woman to achieve her full beauty potential. Aemilia didn't protest, allowing her mother and handmaidens to primp and prepare her for the banquet, nearly giggling at the thought that while they surely thought they were polishing her up for Dagr, it was really Prince Loki who would reap the benefits.

The giggles came to an abrupt end, however, as Aemilia and her mother sat side by side in front of an enormous mirror, having their hair ironed by their handmaids. Most of the day so far had been full of pleasant and vapid chatter, but suddenly Ayre saw fit to turn to Aemilia and smile warmly at her as she spoke with a tone of sincerity.

"I want to thank you, Aemilia, for... behaving as you have in these recent weeks," Ayre said, her piercing dark eyes meeting her daughter's lighter ones.

"Behaving how?" Aemilia inquired.

"You have been handling yourself with a great deal of grace," she explained, "despite how I know you feel about the engagement."

"Oh," Aemilia muttered, looking away towards the mirror. "Well... it's not as if acting unpleasant would change anything, would it?"

Ayre paused for a moment, looking down at her hands as she gathered her words carefully. "You should consider yourself lucky, Aemilia. I am sure that you feel as if your situation could not be possibly worse, but it could be so easily."

At her sudden wistful tone, Aemilia looked up and met her mother's soft gaze. "What do you mean?"

Ayre sighed. "When my mother arranged my engagement to your father... I was infatuated with another."

Aemilia's eyes widened almost comically. "_What_? You've never told me-"

"It was foolishness," Ayre shrugged quickly. "Nothing but youthful foolishness. But it caused me much heartache, and I resented your father for the better part of five centuries for something that was no fault of his own."

Aemilia was stunned. "I... had no idea, Mother."

Ayre smiled and placed her hand over her daughter's. "I tell you this because you should be grateful to not be in a similar situation. Dagr is a good man - you will grow to love him. He will care for you and give you everything. His love will be the only love you've known from a man, and that is how it should be."

Aemilia cringed a little bit, guilt suddenly plaguing her mind as it processed her mother's words. What she and Loki had may not have been love, but it was certainly enough to cause a similar plight as the one Ayre was describing. And Aemilia was utterly alone in it.

For a moment, she considered telling her mother a very abridged version of the truth - that there _was_ someone else who held her interest and _did_ indeed make it hard to her to so much as look at Dagr. The thought of telling Ayre, of easing her burden of secrecy even if it was with the aid of lies, was terribly tempting - she had been keeping so much inside for so long, and she suddenly felt as if she were about to burst at the thought of at last telling even just a little of the truth.

The moment ended, however, with a sudden sharp burn on the back of Aemilia's neck from a moment's mishandling of the iron in her hair. She yelped and quickly grasped the pained skin, not surprised when Ayre proceeded to yell at the handmaiden who'd fumbled the iron and reduce the girl to tears with less than three full sentences. Along with impeccable grace and beauty, Ayre was a master of deeply cutting words, but only when she wished to be.

Aemilia's almost-moment of truth was long gone by the time Ayre calmed down and turned back to the mirror, once again engrossed in her task of getting ready for the banquet. It was just as well, she thought in resignation - the truth was her burden to bear, and it was best that she bear it alone.

* * *

"Oh... my sweet Aemilia," Ayre said emotionally, clutching her hands to her chest, "you... are _exquisite_."

Aemilia smiled and gave a twirl in her dress, having just finally finished her preparations for the banquet with fifteen minutes to spare before Dagr's scheduled arrival. Her dress, spun with Asgard's finest silk and tailored specifically to her body and nobody else's, put its sketch to shame as it clung to her curves and accentuated them without veering off into distaste. The deep emerald green was indeed a glorious contrast against her pale skin and dark hair, and her hair was a sight to behold all it's own - it had taken the help of three others to craft it into a side-swept spiral of curls that cascaded down her right shoulder from a crown of rose-shaped curls low on the back of her head. Not to be outshined, her makeup was just as luxurious and intricate; her eyes were a dramatic blend of the colors she wore, shimmering green and gold near her lash lines blended into black that extended dramatically around lids covered in darker shades of the two colors. Lightly blushed cheeks and a dark berry lip completed the stunning look, and Aemilia had never seen her mother quite so speechless before.

"Dagr may fall faint when he sees you, dear," Ayre beamed, and Aemilia returned her smile dutifully. It wasn't Dagr's reaction she was looking forward to.

As if on cue, a servant shuffled in to inform the two women of Dagr's early arrival, and Ayre smiled warmly as she placed a dark fur shrug on her daughter's shoulders. "Remember what I told you earlier, darling."

Aemilia nodded, wishing that doing so would make the slightest bit of difference. Only a moment later they stepped into the foyer, and there stood Dagr in his best, most decorated Royal Guard uniform, and he did indeed nearly pale in wonder at the sight of his would-be intended.

"... Forgive me, my lady, I fear I have forgotten how to properly speak," he said with a charmingly stupid smile, and Aemilia smiled back as he reached for her hand to kiss it.

From there, it was only minutes before he led her to the carriage that would take them to the palace. Her parents followed in one of their own, and Aemilia should have found it all rather more romantic when she did. As it was, she felt absolutely nothing unless her mind drifted to her destination - if she did, her stomach would flip before curling into a nervous knot. Then she'd glance at Dagr, and it would dissolve into numbness once more.

When they'd been on the road for just over five minutes, Dagr shuffled around the front of his uniform before producing a small black box. "For you, my lady."

"Oh," she said a little lamely, taking the box from him. She hadn't been expecting anything, but then, this was how courting was supposed to work. She lifted off the lid to find a beautiful golden necklace inside, a single square pendant hanging in the middle of the gilded chain. The pendant was clear and yet shone with many colors - it reminded her vaguely of Asgard's rainbow bridge.

"It changes colors according to your clothing or desire," Dagr explained. "It's a rare type of sapphire found in the caves of Nornheim."

"It's beautiful," she said genuinely, offering him a smile. "Thank you,"

"You are very welcome," he replied, watching her lift the necklace from the box and unclasp the chain.

"Can you help?" she asked somewhat awkwardly, not wanting his hands particularly near her but seeing no other choice. She wouldn't risk disturbing her hair and it would be inconceivably rude to not immediately put the necklace on.

"Of course," he said, taking the necklace a little too eagerly. Their fingers brushed and Aemilia fought an instant cringe before quickly mentally berating herself for such a ridiculous reaction.

She gazed out the window to her left as Dagr arranged the jewelry around her neck, and before she could stop herself, she wondered what it would be like to be in this exact situation with Loki instead of Dagr. She imagined the fingers on her neck to be longer, paler ones, ones that would trail down her arms and then grip gently to pull her into a warm embrace, just as lips pressed softly to her neck before becoming more insistent, eventually trailing up to her ear where he'd whisper...

"Are you well, Lady Aemilia?"

She opened her eyes - how long had they been _closed_?! - and quickly turned to her companion with a nervous laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry - my mother woke me before dawn this morning, you see, and I'm... just a little tired."

Dagr smiled. "I understand. We've only twenty more minutes until we reach the palace grounds."

She nodded, her stomach twisting back into a knot at his words. She planned on beating herself up about her poorly-conceived daydream later, but for now, she focused on bracing herself for whatever the night would hold.

* * *

"_There_ you are!" Thor bellowed as he strolled purposefully into his younger brother's room without so much as a knock. Loki stood in front of a large stand mirror in the far corner of the space, putting the finishing touches on himself prior to the night's celebrations, and he wasn't fazed by the sudden intrusion. "How was Alfheim? Thank you for taking my place, once again - I owe you, brother."

Fiddling with the high collar around his neck, Loki gave a half-snort. "You always owe me." Originally Thor had been set to accompany Frigga to Alfheim, but Odin had decided that he wanted Loki to go instead near the last minute, and that had suited Frigga just fine - she preferred Loki's company over Thor's on diplomatic outings, but Loki hadn't been as pleased with the turn of events.

"Not _always_," Thor contested, wandering over to a small table where the remainders of Loki's lunch sat awaiting plunder. He grabbed a roll from the platter and glanced at Loki before commenting, "Have I ever told you that you are more vain than any woman I've ever known? How long have you been primping yourself in front of that mirror?"

Loki turned, the edge of his green cape trailing along the floor as he stepped away from the mirror. "If vanity is my worst sin, brother, then surely I'm on the path to sainthood."

Thor chuckled through a mouth full of bread, following Loki out of his room and into the hallways. "If only that were true."

Loki grinned lightly in response, and Thor raised a brow as they walked together. "And here I expected you to be in a most foul mood, being forced to suffer through another banquet you despise after having spent two weeks abroad among the Light Elves."

"I'm merely happy to be home," Loki shrugged. "I've so dearly missed the pleasure of your company."

"Yes, I am sure that it is _my_ company that you've missed," Thor snickered. "Don't think I miss that spring in your step, brother. I know exactly why you're so happy to be back."

Just as they neared the Great Hall, Loki turned his head and gave his brother a half-smirk. "You might want to cease barging into my chambers for the foreseeable future. I wouldn't want you to suffer the same trauma I did that time we don't speak of."

"You mean that time you were drunk and mistook my room for your own and stumbled in and saw -"

Loki swiftly held up a hand. "We do not speak of it for a reason, Thor."

"To this day, Sif still thinks it was a servant who walked in and howled in horror before running away."

Loki grimaced at the unwelcome memory as both brothers turned and stood at the Hall's entrance. It was a flurry of activity and last minute preparations, spearheaded by the tireless Queen and her maids.

Loki had a good feeling about tonight. Almost too good, he realized as a slight frown curved his lips. The excitement he felt was a foreign, strange feeling, and it made him feel a bit unbalanced.

Thor clapped him on the back suddenly and smiled broadly. "Ready to help me show these Vanirs what Asgard is famous for?"

Loki pretended to contemplate his words and offered, "Belligerently drunken blonde princes who can't keep their hammer in their trousers?"

Thor's laugh boomed through the hall, and he clapped Loki's back again. "I've missed you, brother."

Loki had missed him too, though he wasn't about to admit it.

* * *

Walking through the palace gates on the arm of her suitor was a surreal experience. It felt like the two sides of her double life were meeting right in the middle, overlapping and meshing before her eyes as she and Dagr were welcomed by members of the court upon their arrival. Being raised in the nobility, she knew perfectly well how to smile, bow, and compliment her way through a crowd of high society, and felt perfectly comfortable doing so. But this time, for obvious reasons, she felt anything but comfortable.

The Hall was bustling and already utterly full when they arrived, many long tables already occupied by various families as the guests settled in prior to the All-Father's arrival. With his arrival would also come that of the Vanir delegation, and that was when the party would begin. If it was anything like the ones Aemilia had heard before, there would be dancing and drinking and all forms of merriment until the early morning hours, and if it was a true party, even a fight or two before the night was over. It was how things were done in Asgard, and the Nine Realms were already quite aware of this.

The table that Dagr led Aemilia and her parents to was half-occupied by fellow members of his regiment that had also been invited, and once they had settled at the table, Ayre whisked over some of her fellow noblewomen to join them. It was an odd mix of personalities; young, virile men fresh off of a month's vigorous training, and prim but loud older noblewomen who had no shame in ogling the men despite their millennia-long marriages to the men not currently seated with them. In the middle sat Aemilia, eyeing the ridiculously inviting spread of food on the table, light headed after not eating a single bite of food all day, wanting the banquet to begin so she could eat and hopefully regain some of her wits in the process.

She didn't see Loki or his brother anywhere. She did spy Queen Frigga near the head table, where the royal family would be sitting with the foreign delegation, but she quickly looked away. She'd briefly met the Queen when she sang here last month, and the All-Father as well, but now the idea of being in their company was distinctly uncomfortable.

As the minutes dragged by and her hunger and anxiety increased with each passing one, Aemilia conversed lightly with her mother and the other noblewomen to distract herself. Dagr was busy chatting with his fellow guardsmen, and Aemilia secretly hoped he'd keep it up for the duration of the banquet. She pointedly attempted to not smell the delicious aromas flooding her nose from the table and listened to the feminine chatter flowing at her side.

"... and the last time we entertained a delegation, three fights broke out before the night was over. All in good sport, of course."

"Men and their brutish ways. No wonder the Queen is always the first to bid farewell."

"Yes, and Prince Thor is always the last. As my son says, the true party does not begin until he pulls out his hammer."

"Oh my, I could take that several ways."

Ayre was the one who uttered the last line, and Aemilia rolled her eyes as the noblewomen giggled.

"Speaking of Prince Thor - he's just arrived. Prince Loki, as well. The All-Father must be on his way."

Apprehensively, Aemilia raised her eyes towards the head table. It was quite far away, and there were many heads blocking her view - including Dagr's - but she leaned forward by a few inches and watched as the two princes seated themselves next to their mother. Even from the distance, she could see that the brothers were talking and laughing amongst themselves. Thor was leaning in slightly, and Loki's arms were crossed over his armored chest, a grin on his face as he listened to whatever his older brother was telling him, and just when she saw his eyes begin to scan the tables, she leaned back and allowed Dagr to block her view once more.

She didn't want him to spot her quite yet. She didn't want him to see her seated first - she wanted him to see all of her, all that she had worn and done specifically for the purpose of toying with him, and that moment wouldn't come until later. For now, she thought it best to let him search.

A loud, ominous bang alerted the Hall to their King's arrival. Aemilia stood with the rest of the guests and returned Dagr's tentative smile when he turned to her and offered it.

And thus, the banquet began.

* * *

He couldn't spot her anywhere. It was beginning to grate on his nerves. Nearly as much as the Vanir woman who he somehow found himself seated next to as the feast began.

"So, you are the famous master of magic," she smiled, forcing Loki to look up at her. She looked a lot like a younger version of Frigga, which made some sense, as Frigga was a native of Vanaheim herself, but that served as an instant turnoff.

"Why yes," he smiled in response. The Vanir had been introduced to him not five minutes earlier and he'd already forgotten her name, which was highly uncharacteristic for him. "Though I would not want to appear boastful."

"Not at all," she smiled in response. "Word has it that you have even mastered the elements."

"Elements can never be truly mastered," he replied. "But your implication is correct."

"Hmm," was her reply as she brought a cup of wine to her lips. She tilted the cup up, then started in surprise when a block of ice clunked against her mouth. She quickly drew the cup away and Loki chuckled as she stared at the frozen wine.

"How original," she smirked as Loki nodded in agreement and brought his own cup to his lips. She twitched an eyelid and then watched as half of his wine suddenly rose up in a small wave and sloshed against his face - not enough to drip to his clothes, which she was sure that he wouldn't have found humorous at all, but just enough to go up his nose a bit and make him sputter.

"We are _all_ masters of magic in Vanaheim," she said proudly as Loki wiped his nose. He smiled and appeared perfectly affable on the outside, perhaps even flirtatious, but on the inside, he wanted to slam the girl's face into a bowl of pudding.

* * *

Aemilia shoved a forkful of roast into her mouth and tried not to give in to the wave of jealousy threatening to break over her. She just _had_ to keep looking at him, like the fool she was, and now she was watching him flirt with a statuesque Vanir who had beauty to rival the Queen herself. It set off a chain of unpleasant thoughts - was she his only lover? He'd agreed to her terms at the outset of their affair, but he was not exactly known for his honesty. Yes, he spent his nights with Aemilia alone, but what of his days? What of the last two weeks?

But she had no justification for her jealousy. How could she object to him flirting with or even bedding other women when she was here on the arm of her soon-to-be betrothed, wearing his gift around her neck, all under Loki's own roof?

She stabbed her fork into her pile of steamed vegetables and suddenly felt like a fool dressed as she was, but it was of no consequence - when the dances began, she would dance proudly with Dagr as Loki would surely dance with the Vanir woman, and she would prove to herself how little Loki's actions truly mattered to her.

How blissful denial could be.

* * *

By the time Odin led Frigga to the Hall's center for the night's first dance, Loki's mood was decidedly souring. He'd been scanning the Hall since he first walked into it, and he still had yet to see Aemilia among any of the tables. To make things worse, Thor was already on his way to being spectacularly drunk, and the woman at his side was doing everything in her power to attract Loki and failing miserably. But, as she was part of the delegation, he could hardly be rude, and now he had to ask the woman to dance. And he still couldn't remember her name.

Why couldn't she have just gravitated to Thor like every other woman usually did?

He waited until Thor made for the dance floor, quickly snatching up Lady Sif as he went, before resigning himself to his fate and smiling at the Vanir with his hand out. "Shall we?"

* * *

"Shall we?"

Aemilia blinked up at Dagr and then quickly smiled, placing her hand into his. "Of course."

By now the hall was awash with couples and their laughter, and Aemilia was feeling pleasantly numb after downing two goblets of wine. It was just enough to give her a pleasant buzz and make her fingertips warm, plus take the edge off her inner self-loathing, and at some point on their way to the floor, she decided that nothing was going to stop her from having a good time.

Dagr led her to the first open pocket of space amid the dancing couples, then bowed slightly to her as he raised her hand in his and then took her waist with his other.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my lady?" he asked as they moved gracefully along the floor. He wasn't a terrible dancer, to Aemilia's slight shock.

"Yes. Are you?" she asked lightly.

"Yes," he replied. And that was the end of their conversation.

Aemilia spent the next unknown number of minutes wracking her brain, trying to come up with something decent to say as they danced in utter silence. Every other couple around them was talking, laughing, and thoroughly enjoying themselves - she was merely counting the minutes until someone else would ask her to dance or she could go return to her table for another cup of wine, which suddenly sounded like a great idea.

She was so absorbed in morose thoughts that she did not watch her steps for a moment or two, and during those few moments, Dagr spun her gently in a twirl. Her heel caught on something on the floor, and she looked down to see green fabric pinned between her shoe and the floor. Quickly she raised her foot to release the fabric, and then turned only to promptly lose her breath when she opened her mouth to apologize to whomever she'd just impeded - who happened to be none other than Loki himself.

The prince looked down at his trampled cape in distaste and began snarling without so much as looking up to see who he was scolding. "Might I suggest you learn to watch where you're..."

His angry words died on his tongue when he finally looked up and saw his lover as the culprit. She was standing still, at Dagr's arm's length, suddenly frozen as Loki stared at her. His eyes seemed to widen fractionally as they took in her appearance, and his reaction was enough to banish her sullen mood and replace it with satisfaction.

"Your Grace," she bowed gently, "do accept my sincere apologies."

"Yes," Dagr interjected, "forgive us, Your Highness - we seem to have gotten carried away and did not see where we were going."

Loki's gaze moved from Aemilia to her intended, and he shot the man a pointedly bored glare. It gave Aemilia a chance to notice the Vanir Loki had been dancing with for the first time, and she found that the woman was glaring daggers at her while impatiently clutching the prince's hand.

Loki's gaze had ventured back to Aemilia when his mouth opened to speak, which was the exact moment that a sudden blonde blur flashed in between them. Aemilia blinked and found herself looking into the grinning face of Thor. "Lady Aemilia! Welcome back!"

Quickly she gave a bow and smiled. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"I hope you're enjoying yourself," he smiled. "Might I steal a dance or two?"

Aemilia opened her mouth but Dagr cut her off. "Of course, of course!"

And just like that, she was whisked across the dance floor by Thor while Loki stared in disbelief. Aemilia managed a glance to the darker prince as Thor led her away by a few feet, and she watched as Loki set his jaw and turned back to his own dance partner with a swish of his cape that somehow managed to look angry. At first she felt irrationally guilty, but then she remembered how she'd watched Loki and that woman throughout the entire dinner, and her guilt gave way to a sudden idea.

"You are even more lovely than I remember," Thor said charmingly, surprising her with how light his feet were as he glided her around.

"You're very kind to say so," she smiled in response.

"Yes, well, when last I saw you I was quite drunk, so I probably also owe you an apology for one thing or another."

She laughed, catching Loki watching out of the corner of her eye as he danced past them with the Vanir in his arms. "It's quite alright, Your Grace. You've nothing to be sorry for."

"You are very gracious," Thor smiled, and suddenly Aemilia understood why people treated Thor as he did - the man radiated kindness and likeability. It was impossible to speak to him and look at his smile without catching some of his natural cheer. "And a wonderful dancer!"

Loki danced past them again, and this time Aemilia giggled at Thor, loud enough for his brother to hear. She had the feeling that she was playing a dangerous game in doing this, but it seemed like a brilliant idea at the moment, after the night had gone as it had. It also helped that her slight buzz was giving her an extra kick of courage, not that she really needed one after seeing the way Loki had been stunned at the sight of her.

"Who did I steal you from?" Thor asked curiously. "He looked familiar."

"His name is Dagr. He is of the Royal Guard," Aemilia explained.

"Ah," Thor replied before again turning on the charm. "Well, he is a lucky man indeed if he has the pleasure of courting you."

She giggled again, perfectly loud enough for Loki to hear once again, and she glanced his way over Thor's shoulder. Loki was watching, growing ever more irritated by the looks of it, and she couldn't help gleaming some pleasure from Loki's clear discomfort. Thor spun her gently, and she could feel Loki's eyes travel up and down the length of her body before Thor pulled her back to him. She gave the older prince a bright smile and found herself genuinely enjoying herself for the first time all night.

But just as she felt as if she were hitting her stride, a servant interrupted their dance and whispered to Thor that the All-Father had requested his presence at the head table. Thor thanked the man and sent him on his way before turning to Aemilia and giving her a light bow. "Thank you for the dance, Lady Aemilia," he said, taking her hand and pressing a gentlemanly kiss to it. "I do hope it is not our last."

She smiled and curtsied to the prince. "I am sure it is not, Your Grace."

He left her with another infectious smile, and he was not but a few feet away from her before she heard a low, unimpressed voice behind her. "May I have this dance?"

She turned and found Loki, standing tall in his armor with his hand stiffly outstretched, his eyes a mix of irritation and desire as they once again drank her in. She wordlessly placed her hand in his, then inhaled sharply as his other hand took her waist and pulled her far closer to his body than either Dagr or Thor had to theirs.

Slowly he turned them and began their dance, sending shivers down her spine as he whispered near her ear, "Are you pleased with yourself, little temptress?"

* * *

It appeared that he had underestimated the girl, and he was not at all happy about it. Nor was he happy about the fact that seeing her in _that_ dress in _those_ colors had nearly reduced him to the behavior of an animal in heat.

But that hadn't been enough for her, no - she had to go and flaunt herself in front of him with Thor. _Thor_. She clearly had no idea that she was playing with fire.

As courageous as she had apparently grown in his two-week absence, he still felt her shiver when he whispered his question against her ear, and he knew exactly what effect his sudden proximity had upon her.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she answered as he danced her about, both of them looking off in different directions to keep from staring at each other and giving their relationship away.

"My colors do suit you well," he admitted.

"I wasn't aware that you had ownership over green and gold," she remarked, and Loki turned to look her in the eye.

"Don't try to play dumb, Aemilia. I've told you before, you are an abysmal liar."

"Judging by your tone, I can only assume that I have somehow displeased you."

He chuckled. "My dear, do not presume to know the extent of your effect on me. It may both surprise and frighten you at the present moment."

She stared at him for a moment before casting her eyes across the room, before her gaze became too intense. "I've missed you," she said, her tone feather-soft.

Loki felt an odd pull from within at her confession, but he quickly pushed it aside. He could think of nothing to say in turn, so he decided to simply let his eyes sweep over her once more. This time he noticed the gold jewelry around her neck. "A gift from your intended, I presume?"

"He said it's a rare sapphire found in the caves of Nornheim," Aemilia replied, glancing down at the pendant as it swirled with colors of deep green and shimmering gold.

Loki turned a more critical eye to the bauble, then laughed softly. "He lies. That is merely a diamond that has been charmed to appear as the rare sapphire does."

Aemilia looked at him skeptically. "How can you know that for sure?"

"Because I gave my mother a bracelet made with those sapphires not a decade ago, and I assure you, your intended would not have the means of gaining such such a jewel as I did."

She sighed lightly, as if not surprised at all. "At least your brother was kind enough to spare me from dancing with him any longer."

Loki snorted softly. "Yes, my brother, the hero."

She paused. "Are you jealous?"

"That's what you wanted, is it not?"

"I only assumed that one who loves mischief as much as you would appreciate the effort."

He chuckled yet again. "I'll not see you near my brother again, Aemilia."

"Are you forbidding me?" she asked in evident disbelief, looking up to him once more. "I am not yours to command."

His fingers on her waist curled tighter in their grip as his eyes blazed into hers. "Are you not? Did you not dress yourself in these colors to entice me? Do you remember nothing of what you told me the night I first took you?"

"I..."

"I could kiss you right here," he whispered, dropping his lips as close to her ear as he could without garnering attention from those dancing around them. "I could mark you as my own right here in front of the court and your dim-witted intended, and what would you do then? What _could_ you do?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"I am reminding you who holds the power in our little arrangement, little one," he spoke fiercely but quietly.

She ceased her steps then, a small smile surprisingly crossing her lips as she replied after a pause, "Perhaps I would believe that, if one simple dress along with one brief dance with your brother hadn't brought about such a powerful reaction from you. Perhaps," she withdrew herself from his grip and curtsied before smiling at him sweetly, "I hold some power of my own."

The infuriating woman then turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Loki to stare blankly at her absence.

Meanwhile, across the hall, Thor watched the last few moments of their dance unfold and felt comprehension dawn upon him. When he'd gone to see why the All-Father had requested his presence, he arrived at the head table to find that Odin had not sent the servant who'd informed Thor, and that he did not require anything of him. Thor had nodded in confusion, then cast his eyes back to the crowd only to spot his brother and the Lady Aemilia in the midst of a rather close dance.

Suddenly, it all made sense. He doubted the servant had been anything more than one of Loki's projections, and he couldn't help but grin widely and shake his head at his brother's antics as he set off to continue enjoying the celebrations. He would make sure to congratulate Loki on his good taste later on, and probably mercilessly torment him with his newly gained knowledge for a very long time.

* * *

Aemilia walked away from Loki trembling slightly, unable to control the silly grin spreading across her face. She felt exhilarated to have finally exerted some control, and though she knew he'd probably make her pay for it later, she also knew it wouldn't be anything she wouldn't want. In fact, she couldn't wait to get home and wait for him to come and retrieve her - dancing with him in front of virtually all of Asgard had been a surreal, thrilling thing, made all the more exciting by the conversation they'd shared.

All in all, she had accomplished everything that she'd hoped to, and more.

Unfortunately, what awaited back at her table was less than desirable. Ayre was already extremely drunk, which meant she was going to become rather loud and obnoxious soon, and her father was nowhere to be found; Dagr was also AWOL, so Aemilia sighed and placed herself at her mother's side, where she ended up remaining for the rest of the night.

It was just as well - her appetite for dancing had been sated, and sitting with her mother meant less interaction with Dagr. She let Ayre have her fun for another hour before she collected her father and told him that they needed to go before Ayre embarrassed the family, and then she unenthusiastically tracked down Dagr as well.

She didn't see another sign of Loki once after their dance, and she tried not to think of it too much as she endured awkward silence on the carriage ride home with Dagr. She also tried not to think too much about what Loki would have in store for the remainder of her night, lest she drift off into another daydream in Dagr's presence.

The ride home seemed to pass blessedly more quickly than the ride to the palace had, and before she knew it, Dagr was walking her to her front door. Her parents carriage was just pulling up as they reached the door, and as always, Dagr took her hand in his to kiss it.

"Thank you for a lovely night," he said dutifully, and she smiled in turn.

"Thank you as well," she she replied. "And for the gift." _Even though it's a fake_, she added silently.

He nodded, smiling softly. "I know I've said it already, but you truly are stunning beyond words."

Suddenly, Aemilia's stomach started to squirm unpleasantly as she realized what Dagr was about to do. He was leaning forward slowly and looking at her lips, and she started to panic.

At the last minute, just as his lips were about to brush hers, she turned her head and deflected his kiss to her cheek. Dagr then pulled away and bade her a quick and justifiably awkward farewell as her father began hobbling up the walkway with the belligerent Ayre.

Aemilia took over from there, taking her mother's arm and taking it upon herself to get her safe in bed for the night. Her father wasn't the greatest with such things, and she didn't mind - it was unfortunately not the first and certainly not the last time she would have to tend to Ayre's drunkenness.

Her mother blabbed happily and obliviously until Aemilia had gotten her safely in bed, which was when Ayre caught her wrist and smiled as she slurred, "I know you don't like him... and that necklace is a fake... but he really does mean well, you know."

Aemilia slowly sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed - had she been the last to know about the necklace's authenticity? "I just... we have nothing to talk about. Nothing in common."

Ayre scoffed. "Like that matters. Please, Aemilia, I can't handle your naïveté right now."

Aemilia clenched her jaw and moved to stand. This was another reason why she tended to her mother when drunk rather than her father - Ayre was the quintessential mean drunk when she neared the point of passing out.

"No, no, no, don't leave, I'm sorry," Ayre said quickly, again grabbing Aemilia's wrist. "I just... darling, I just want to wring your neck sometimes."

_Here we go_, Aemilia sighed.

"You have this idealistic, ridiculous idea of what our lives as women should be, or what you want them to be, and it's not reality, dear! Life is not about... dream-chasing or freedom, or whatever - it's about duty. I know that better than you could possibly know. Everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed, it's all been my duty to you."

"You know that I have no idea what you mean by that, mother," Aemilia said tightly. "I've never asked you for hardly anything."

"No, nothing," Ayre scoffed. "You know, Aemilia, what it comes down to is - we do what we must, not what we want. It is the only way for women such as us to thrive in this realm."

"I don't believe that," Aemilia said softly. "And I don't know what happened to you that made you believe as you do, but..."

Ayre laughed humorlessly. "_You_ happened to me, darling. You were born, that's what happened."

Aemilia froze as the words sliced through her mind like the icy weapons that they were. They shocked her to her core - even for her mother at the height of a drunken fit, that had been an unprecedentedly mean thing to say. She'd never said anything even remotely like it before, either - how was she supposed to process this?

She did all that she knew to do, which was leave immediately the very second she felt tears start to well up behind her eyes. She quickly left her mother's room and hurried to her own room, managing to hold in the oncoming wave of tears until she was safely inside with the door closed behind her.

She let go then, and let out a soft sob as she let her tears fall from her eyes. She didn't flinch when she felt a hand take hers from behind, and she didn't open her eyes when the hand let go. She knew if she'd open them, she would find herself in Loki's chambers, but even that was inconsequential at the moment.

What was she supposed to do after her own mother just confessed that she resented her very existence?

* * *

As soon as he'd touched her hand, he knew something was off. It wasn't until he'd teleported them to his room, however, that he noticed that she was crying. A lot.

He didn't do well with crying women. During the rare moments that he'd seen his mother cry out of sadness, it had made him feel so uncomfortable that he would have done anything to make it stop. He felt similar now, watching this woman that had earlier both infuriated and impressed him with her first attempt at tormenting him now stand shaking with tears before him. He simply stared at the back of her head for an awkward moment or two, hoping she'd stop and get over whatever was bothering her, but when that didn't happen, he gritted his teeth and led her by her forearm to his bed.

He sat her down on his bedside and watched in slight horror as she covered her face with her hands and cried even harder. He shifted on his feet and then walked away to grab the first two things he could think of that might help her stop blubbering before she flooded his room.

A moment later, he stood in front of her once more and cleared his throat. She dropped one of her hands to look up and found him dangling a handkerchief in one hand, and holding a small glass of dark liquid in the other.

"Thanks," she muttered, taking the handkerchief first and utilizing it before taking the glass next. He was surprised to see that her elaborate makeup had barely been smudged by her tears. "What is this?"

"Nothing harmful," he said vaguely, and she raised a brow to him before downing the glass in one gulp. She then grimaced and coughed, and he took the glass from her and set it aside before sitting next to her on the bed.

"That was terrible," she commented, still sniffling, though her tears seemed to have ceased for the moment.

"It was just a bit of liquor. With a bit of something added to help calm you down."

She laughed hollowly. "I would explain to you why I'm crying like this, but I know you don't care. So I won't."

He raised an eyebrow and replied, "If telling me will end this fit of yours then please, by all means, tell me everything." It was a selfish motive, yes, but he didn't really care.

"My mother told me, in her very own words, that my existence has more or less ruined her life. I do not know why, because I didn't stick around to hear more. I had heard quite enough for one night." Loki listened calmly, his expression impassive as she went on. "The strange thing is, she's never said anything like that before."

"Perhaps you ought not dwell on the words of a drunken old woman," Loki suggested.

"My mother's at her most honest when she's drunk," Aemilia muttered, staring at her hands. Then the glimmer of the necklace that she still wore caught her eye, and, she grabbed it by the pendant and snapped it clean off her neck before tossing it across the room. "Bastard and his fake jewelry. The gold was probably fake as well."

Loki smirked, his eyes catching again on her dress and the figure that it cut on her body. It really was something to behold - he almost didn't want to take it off of her. Almost. "Why did you wear that dress? Truly?"

She glanced up to him almost shyly. "Exactly why you thought I did. Did it work?"

"Why did you dance with my brother?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Because he asked me," she answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Would you have had me say no?"

"You made sure I saw you with him," Loki said quietly. "You made sure I heard you laughing with him."

She sighed and again looked down at her hands in her lap. "I watched you with that... Vanir woman all night, and I thought I'd try to make you jealous. It was pathetic and stupid."

"It was effective," Loki stated simply, taking her by surprise. "And I meant what I said earlier. I'll not see you near him again."

He could see that she didn't have the energy to fight with him. She simply rolled her eyes and said, "I don't want your brother, Loki. I've told you before, I do not desire him as I desire you."

"I do not care for words of assurance. I am simply telling you to stay away from my brother."

Despite the slightly bewitched drink he'd given her, she didn't seem to be getting any less agitated. In fact, she set her jaw and glared up at him as she spat, "There are enough people in my life who order me about and take away my choices. I will not let you be one of them. I have no interest in your brother. There is no more to say about it. What do you think I will do? Fall prey to his charms, watch him swing his hammer around and fall helplessly into his bed? Do you think me that easy?"

"The very nature of our relationship suggests that we are loyal to nobody but ourselves," Loki pointed out. "You are sharing my bed while being courted by another and I took your virtue with the intent of ruining you for all other men - neither of us are trustworthy in the least."

To his surprise, she laughed softly and shook her head. "I think what frightens me the most is that I don't feel guilty about this. I don't feel an ounce of guilt for anything we've done."

"You shouldn't," he replied. "It's fun, is it not? Who does it hurt?"

"Me, I suspect, in the end." When Loki did not reply, she looked at him and sighed with a small shake of her head. "Why can't I speak to Dagr as easily as I can speak to you? I've tried so hard, and I keep trying to... like him, just a little bit, but..."

"But instead you dress yourself to entice me and find yourself once again in my bed after bidding him goodnight," Loki said. "Do you think your desires will simply change over time? Do you think that if you try hard enough, you'll cease to have need of me and find fulfillment with him?"

"The fact that you enjoy my misery makes me despise you as much as I desire you," she said quietly. "You are cruel."

"And yet here you are," Loki shrugged, "of your own free will."

She stared at her hands once more, shaking her head slightly at herself, and Loki reached out to her. His fingertips brushed over her shoulder and then the back of her neck, and he felt her relax under his simple touch. Thoroughly sick of talking, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck, and her hand quickly rose to tangle in his hair and hold him closer.

* * *

She felt safe here, in the one place in all the realm where she knew she shouldn't. Holding him close and feeling his lips upon her skin brought a sort of demented peace within, and she suddenly felt like she could breathe again for the first time in weeks. The day had left her cold, reeling from the overload of emotions that she had endured since it had began, but now there was warmth and calm at last - and she knew it made no sense.

She let him lay her down and crawl over her, one of his hands sliding underneath her to unzip her dress at her back, and it was a care he'd never bothered to take with any of her other dresses. He peeled it down her body carefully, down to her waist and then easing the sleeves from her arms, for the first time finding not a stitch of anything else underneath. He ungently kissed every bit of skin of hers that he bared, growing more desperate and open-mouthed as he went, but he didn't kiss her lips.

After her dress was gone, he broke away to rid himself of his top half of clothes before suddenly grabbing her and placing her in his lap so that she straddled him, and he resumed attacking her neck as he pulled lightly on a fistful of her hair.

"Tell me what you want," she heard him growl against her quickly overheating skin, and her fingers twisted tightly in his hair in response. "Tell me."

"I want you to kiss me," she replied, inhaling sharply as he squeezed her breast neither gently nor roughly.

He chuckled low in his throat and raised his head to look her in the eye, a smirk on his face as he asked, "Where?"

He would have preferred the lewd answer, clearly, but it wasn't what she craved right now. Looking down at his lips, she moved her hands to his face and held them on each side of his jaw before softly pressing her lips to his.

They had kissed many times before, though with declining frequency as of late, and his kisses were never gentle. He plundered her mouth and dominated it, and taught her to fight back and play as hard as he did, but he never taught her how to do this, so she was on her own. He didn't react at first, staying as still as stone as she kissed him almost sweetly. When he didn't respond she tilted her head and kissed him again, and then again, until his lips finally moved just barely against hers. She took advantage of his lips parting just slightly and softly slid her tongue inside, operating on instinct and need, not caring if she did it skillfully or not. She repeated the motion again, and this time his tongue met hers, and his hand left her hip to cup her cheek as the kiss finally deepened.

For the first time, he didn't dominate her or take full control of their kiss; he simply let it happen, his hand staying on her cheek as her arms twined around his neck and pulled him as close to herself as she possibly could. The kiss was everything she wanted it to be, exactly what she had been craving from him for weeks, and it made the very center of her chest ache with contentment.

She could have stayed that way forever and would have been happy just to simply be held and kissed until she had her fill, but Loki eventually broke away to take in a heavy breath. His fingers moved to her hair and his gaze met hers as they both breathed through parted lips, and she expected him to move back to her neck and maybe flip her on her back to get things started. She was okay with the possibility - she was aching for him and she could feel him aching for her as she pressed into his lap. But instead, his hand in her hair pushed her back to him, and he kissed her again.

Of all the things they'd done, and all of the different times that he'd made her nearly forget her own name, she didn't think any of it had felt quite as good as this. He was holding her rather than grabbing her, kissing her slowly and exquisitely rather than bruising her lips, and his hands had never felt so soft as they did when they were holding her cheek or running up and down her back. It was perfect. She shivered when he all but purred against her lips, her good feelings swelling with the knowledge that she wasn't the only one being affected.

He broke away again, after her brain had nearly begun to melt, and her eyes opened when she felt his fingers take her chin between them. She looked up to find his green eyes heavy with desire as they bore into hers.

"You _are_ mine," he whispered harshly. She nodded quickly, and he brought his lips a breath away from hers, still holding her gaze.

"Yours," she whispered almost too softly to be heard. She let her thumb trace his bottom lip, and her insides backflipped when he kissed it. She could do nothing but exhale raggedly and kiss him once more, wishing for the first time that she was _truly_ his.

**A/N: *grins* I hadn't planned on this chapter ending like this, but that's where it ended up going, and I'm happy with it. Not much for sexytimes this time around but they'll be back next chapter, along with the official start of angstytimes. Is that a term or did I just make it up? Idk, but I like it. Thanks so much as always to readers/reviewer/faves/alerters and to midnightwings96 whose help is indispensable as always. I've got a lot of good stuff coming up here in future chapters *rubs hands villainously* so keep sticking with me, guys :D thanks again to all of you!**


	5. Chapter 5

Loki stared at his half-eaten breakfast plate, not really seeing it as his leaned on the palm of his hand, lost in thought. He touched two of his fingertips to his lips while his other hand lay limp on the table in front of him, and rather than fight the thoughts running through his mind, he let them consume it entirely.

He had come to Aemilia last night fully intent on showing her that there were consequences to be had for her behavior at the banquet. As enticed as he was by her unexpected little displays and play for power - as minuscule as that power was - he couldn't have her thinking that she'd gained any sort of upper hand in their arrangement. But then he came and retrieved her from her home for the night, and her unexpected breakdown threw his plans into chaos.

It would have been one thing if she had just finished her brief crying fit and then allowed the night to get on as he'd intended, but she hadn't. No, she had effectively pulled the rug out from underneath him and left him utterly out of his element with a simple kiss.

He could still feel the ghost of the kiss on his lips as he touched them lightly. He hadn't kissed a woman the way that she had kissed him in centuries, and a woman hadn't kissed him like that in... well, ever. He had learned early on to use kisses as tools to get what he wanted and keep them from taking on any level of intimacy, and it had worked perfectly well for him and his purposes.

Last night was a perfect example of why he stuck to such a philosophy. The moment she asked him to kiss her - only kiss her - his instincts had begun screaming at him to tell her no and remind her that she was here to warm his bed, nothing else. But, to his horror, she had so caught him off guard that words had uncharacteristically failed him, and then she had taken matters into her own hands and kissed him as she wanted to be kissed herself.

His eyes fluttered briefly shut as he allowed himself to fully relive that moment. He hadn't wanted to respond, hadn't wanted to let her get her way like that, but her soft and slightly clumsy way of urging him for a response had broken his resolve. It was stupid and it went against all of his rules, but it had felt too undeniably _good_ to stop once he'd allowed himself the smallest of kisses back. The way that she held him closer in relief and joy when he had was the nail in his coffin, and from there, he couldn't remember how long he had simply held her and reveled in the kiss. He did remember being the one to resume it a few times during the fleeting times they'd break away to take a breath.

Then he'd reiterated his claim upon her. She agreed without hesitation, and he pretended for a moment that he'd only kissed her so intimately to strengthen her acceptance of his possession over her. That it had just been another kiss used as a tool, and one that had worked perfectly, but even a master of lies can't always lie to himself. His trembling hands and embarrassingly breathless lungs had been proof enough that he'd broken his own rule for the first time.

He opened his eyes and felt the warmth of the memory dissipate as he tried not to remember what had happened next. He felt no better about it today than he had during or after it last night, but he hadn't been able to help it. She had left him feeling open and terrifyingly exposed, and once the shock of it had worn off, he had opted to regain control the only way he knew how - by reasserting it over her.

She didn't utter a word of complaint when he wrenched her mouth away from his and flipped her over on her hands and knees, even though he knew full well by now that it was her least favored position. He didn't care - it kept their lips apart and prevented her from stealing anymore kisses while he attempted to erase those last few moments with the roughest sex he'd had with her to date. It wasn't like the first night, when he'd forgotten that he had spelled her to feel no pain and thus truly accidentally lost track of his own strength - this time it was all quite purposeful, and he knew he'd leave her bruised again, and he didn't care. Let the bruises be a reminder of who and what he truly was to her, he decided.

He still made sure that she came with him in the end, and he'd felt her cries erupt from her throat as he gripped it painlessly in his hand. It was a few blurry moments later, when he'd finally withdrawn from her and let go of her throat to let her collapse in a heap on the bed, that he realized he'd accomplished nothing. He sat on his heels, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, watching the girl lay limply on her stomach as she tried to recover, and he felt like a fool. This ridiculous, infuriating, sweet girl had shown him more affection tonight than any other lover ever had in his life, and he responded by taking her like some kind of out of control savage.

He was, in a word, an idiot.

To ease his sudden wave of self-hatred, he had then knelt over her - cringing when she tensed slightly at his proximity - and placed his hands on her already-darkening thighs to heal her before she had a chance to fully bruise. Then he'd turned her over, gently, to her back and traced his fingertips over her hips to prevent the inevitable hand-shaped bruises that would have appeared by the morning, and kissed her hipbone as she relaxed under the warmth of his healing magic.

He had felt a vague, disturbing urge to tell her that he was sorry, and he didn't know why he couldn't bring himself to say it. He'd apologized the first time he'd made her bruise, but that time had been unintentional - this time he'd been aware of what he was doing, and even though he'd healed her almost immediately afterwards, it hadn't assuaged his current state of self-loathing and ridicule.

Then her hand had come to rest tentatively in his hair, and the simple touch was enough to make him relax just a bit. He kissed her hipbone again, then trailed his lips to her thigh, and in lieu of verbally apologizing to her, he found himself overcome with desire for her. He spread her thighs before him and set his mouth to her, and he didn't stop his work until he'd lost count of how many more times he made her fall apart. Eventually she begged him to stop, saying she couldn't handle anymore, and only then did he cease his actions, hoping stupidly that his now-numb tongue had made up for the pain he'd caused her.

Back in the present, Loki opened his eyes and lowered his face into his palm, cringing at all of the memories. If all it took from this girl was one single kiss to so derail him and make him act so stupid, then clearly she was far more dangerous than he'd given her credit for, and the wise course of action would be to immediately sever all contact with her, for his own sake.

"Loki?"

He opened his eyes and looked up, across the small table to his mother, and quickly schooled his features into his usual blank expression. He and Frigga were in her chambers, having breakfast in front of her balcony doors while Odin and Thor were off training together in a father-son bonding exercise that Loki hadn't been invited to. "Mother?"

"What's ailing you?" she asked gently.

"Nothing," he shrugged, and she inclined her head knowingly towards him.

"You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

He stayed silent rather than answer. No, he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in nearly two months, mostly due to his own desires, but his two weeks in Alfheim had been even more horribly sleepless, for no good reason.

"You know that you can always come to me, for anything," she said softly. "What is spoken between us stays between us. It always has."

"I know."

His mother smiled gently. "Spend the day with me. Like we used to. I've not seen you practice your magic in some time. I miss it."

He nodded. "I will meet you in the gardens this afternoon, then."

She smiled again. "I look forward to it."

He gave her a tight smile, then rose and briefly kissed her cheek as he walked past her. He headed out of her rooms and directly towards his own, needing to get his head straight and decide what to do with his current problem.

If he gave Aemilia up now, as he knew was wise, it may backfire and cause his still-raging obsession to grow to such lengths that he wouldn't be able to control it. He'd never _not_ allowed his obsessions to run their course, so cutting one off halfway was uncharted territory. But, if he didn't, and things like last night continued to happen in the future, that was also uncharted territory.

Which begged the question. What exactly was this maiden doing to him to cause such a dilemma in the first place?

He blinked when he realized he was standing in the middle of his bedroom - he barely remembered getting there. He then sighed and turned towards his bath, only to freeze in place when he suddenly felt soft lips kiss behind his ear and hands slide on top of his shoulders.

"Aemilia?" he asked automatically, eyes narrowed as he wondered how the girl would have managed to get here without his help.

"Who?" a deeper feminine voice giggled into his ear. A scent invaded his nose, vanilla and berries, not Aemilia's signature rose mixture, and he turned to look at the woman.

"Ilyana," he muttered, frowning slightly at the sight of one of his old lovers. She was tall, slim and had hair so blonde that it was nearly white, and she was one of the more promiscuous lovers he'd taken. It had happened during a time of great boredom for him, and it hadn't taken long for her activities with other men to turn him off of her. He was too greedy to tolerate that. "How did you get in here?"

"I have my ways," she shrugged innocently. "You didn't dance with me last night."

"Was I supposed to?" he asked, his tone bored. "I'm sure you found ways to entertain yourself."

"I always do," she grinned. "Doesn't mean I wouldn't like your help every now and then."

"I'm busy today," he lied. "Try your luck with someone else."

He moved to turn away, and she snatched his hand. "I do love it when you play hard to get," she purred as she pressed herself against him, and he scowled but didn't move. She pressed her lips to his neck and he lifted his hand to grab her and push her away before something occurred to him and made him stop.

He had already established to himself that giving Aemilia up was the wise thing to do. It suddenly seemed like the smartest idea in the world that he should now prove to himself that he could find satisfaction elsewhere, that he didn't need the object of his obsession to keep him occupied and sated. He could barely tolerate the woman who was currently sucking at the base of his neck, but, she was _there_, and now seemed as good a time as any to put his new theory to the test.

She trailed her tongue from his neck to his ear as his hands unfroze, one of them rising to unceremoniously grope her through her thin dress while the other grabbed her hair and pulled her head away from him.

He looked at her blankly for a moment, observing her cold gray eyes and the red pout of her lips, and he confirmed to himself that she would do. The hand in her hair moved to her shoulder, and he roughly pushed her down to her knees in front of him. She chuckled low in her throat at his acquiescence and quickly went to work freeing him from the confines of his pants, a moment later using her hand to ready him when she found him only barely aroused.

He stared down at the woman as she worked, his mind blank as he willed his body to be responsive. When he got bored of looking at her, he let his eyes roll shut, and a moment later he felt her warm tongue and mouth begin their work on him.

She started off too fast, so he grabbed her hair and set her at a slower pace. She followed his lead for a moment or two, then wandered off to her own pace, and he again grabbed her and changed it back. His eyes were still closed, but they opened when the thought crossed his mind that he never had to continuously guide Aemilia when she did this to him.

Ilyana may have known what _men_ liked, but she was not tailored to Loki's tastes. She was teasing him too much, and watching her wasn't helping him along at all, so he let his eyes close again as he grabbed her hair one last time and decided to guide her somewhat angrily until he finished, because it otherwise wasn't going to happen.

He imagined that the woman on her knees was not someone he half-despised and considered to be little more than a common whore. He pretended that he didn't have to manually push her head back and forth to gleam any pleasure from her mouth, and he pretended that the odd sense of self-disgust welling up inside of him wasn't really there and that he would feel perfectly fine with himself when this was over.

It wasn't until he let himself imagine Aemilia in Ilyana's place that he felt a truly pleasurable jolt go through him. He thought of her her soft lips, her mouth that he'd trained to please him and him alone, the way she'd peek up at him and gently scratch her nails down his thighs as she worked, and he groaned as he clung to the image.

Then he felt teeth graze him - not enough to hurt but enough to make his eyes open in sudden concern for himself - and he realized that the entire point of letting Ilyana do this to him had just been rendered pathetically moot by his own traitorous thoughts. The disgust that had been slowly growing inside of swelled and then erupted. He grit his teeth and yanked Ilyana's head back by her hair and then shoved her away from him, and she stumbled down to her backside on the floor with a yelp. It had probably hurt, but he could not have cared less.

"Get out," he said quietly, fixing his clothes as he turned his back to the woman.

"But..."

"Get _out_!" he yelled, turning and wrenching her up by her forearm and hurtling her towards the door. She stared at him in disbelief but hurried out of his room, and when his door slammed shut behind her, Loki didn't stop his anger from manifesting in the form of a small burst of magic that reverberated around the room and knocked all of the furniture other than his bed to the floor.

This was _not_ good.

* * *

Aemilia woke up maybe four hours after Loki had finally brought her home. She had no choice but to wake up early - she had singing to do today, and her instructor wasn't flexible with her hours. Ignoring the protests of her sleepy mind and body, she dragged herself out of bed and tried not to scowl too deeply as the previous day's events came rushing back to her.

She blamed her mother for all of it, she decided as she parted her window's curtains and let the sunlight warm her room. If it hadn't have been for her mother's cruel drunken words, she was sure that she wouldn't have felt so needy and drained when Loki brought her to his bed, and thus she never would have been foolish enough to kiss him the way that she had. And that kiss had made him snap so bizarrely that she was still confused and unsure of how to interpret his actions the morning after.

Yawning, she went to her bathroom and robotically began filling the tub before going to the sink to brush her teeth. She hadn't even expected Loki to return her kiss at all - she knew he had no reason to, it wasn't what he wanted from her - but then he went and shocked her by not only returning her kiss but savoring it. Then he gave her whiplash with the rest of his actions, and she had no idea what to do with any of it.

He'd acted mildly horrified with how roughly he'd taken her, much more horrified than she herself had been. It had been rougher than she'd ever remembered, yes, but he had never been exactly gentle with her, so it wasn't such a stretch from the norm. She'd been expecting him to be slightly off the rails after she'd teased him at the banquet anyway - he really didn't need to make it up to her the way that he had, not that she would have dared complain. It had just been simply dizzying to watch him ping-pong from one extreme to the other.

But then there had been the manner of how he left her for the night. After she'd tended to his needs one last time after his marathon between her legs - which she, not he, had insisted upon - he hadn't looked her in the eye once before he'd vanished her back to her room. He hadn't said a word, either. It seemed like he was ashamed or embarrassed of something, and it was beyond strange to see him like that.

She sunk into her bath with a sigh and immediately closed her eyes. She shouldn't have worn that dress. Shouldn't have kissed him like some lovesick girl looking for affection.

She also should have never gotten into his bed to begin with, but that was neither here nor there.

Still, she would rather think about Loki and all of his oddities than let her mind drift back to her mother. She groaned and sunk further into the water, knowing she'd have to face her within a matter of mere minutes, and most likely, Ayre would remember nothing beyond the banquet.

Slowly, though, even while she tried not to, Aemilia was putting the pieces together in her mind of the fragments Ayre had confessed. She had been infatuated with another man in her youth, which was her sober revelation from the day prior, and she also held a bitter resentment towards Aemilia's very existence due apparently to how motherhood had changed her life. This coming from a woman who touted duty and sacrifice above all else.

It was all connected somehow, she knew. Perhaps Ayre still held a candle for this mystery infatuation of hers and perhaps thought if she were childless, she could have been granted a divorce and been free from Haidr. Aemilia couldn't really see that being the case though, as society-obsessed as Ayre was. Divorce was as rare as disease in Asgard, and the few divorced women in existence were universally shunned. Such a thing was Ayre's worst nightmare.

Aemilia realized she was staring off into space and shook her head to banish the odd thoughts. This was why she'd rather focus on Loki. He was her distraction from the unpleasant side of life that she couldn't fully escape no matter what she did. There was hardly even a point in discovering Ayre's truth - did she really want to know why she held secret bitterness towards her own child? It would only make matters worse, Aemilia was sure of it.

When she could linger no more, eventually Aemilia dragged herself from the comfortable bath and dressed herself for the day. Then she begrudgingly went down to the dining room to get it over with, and she unsurprisingly found her mother sitting half-slumped at the table with a glass of her preferred hangover remedy in her hand. Ayre raised bleary eyes to her daughter when she heard her footsteps, and quickly groaned, "Did I embarrass the family?"

"No," Aemilia rolled her eyes, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. Haidr wasn't out to breakfast yet, which wasn't too odd a thing. He was older than Ayre and not as early to rise. "No, I got us home before that happened."

"I'm so sorry," Ayre sighed, leaning on her hand. "I didn't mean to get so drunk. Really, one minute I was fine and the next, I was -"

"It's okay," Aemilia shrugged. "Really. I'm used to it." It was an unnecessary jab, but she was feeling extremely annoyed at having to act like everything was fine.

Ayre took the slight with dignity and opted to pause before changing the subject. "I saw you dance with both of the Princes last night. That's exciting."

Aemilia nodded, quickly but delicately eating a pastry and not saying a word in response.

"You and Prince Thor would have made quite the couple."

Aemilia let herself look at Ayre in slight confusion. Ayre shrugged and added, "You looked good together, is all."

She and Loki had been color coordinated - how had they not looked good together? Now Aemilia just wanted to be annoying out of spite, and she didn't care that it was childish. "Prince Loki is a better dancer."

Another pause went by, and then Ayre sighed, "You _would_ favor the lesser prince."

Aemilia took another bite and chewed it as she swallowed an unwise retort. "I try to judge a person on their merit, not the order or manner of their birth."

"Then you may be the only citizen of Asgard who does."

Aemilia took the last bite of the pastry and got to her feet. "I am nearly late. I must go."

She was halfway to the door before her mother's voice stopped her. "Aemilia?"

She paused but didn't look over her shoulder. "Yes, Mother?"

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Aemilia nodded stiffly and then left.

* * *

"Impressive, darling."

Loki allowed himself a small grin as he stood in the middle of the sprawling palace gardens, just one in a sea of a hundred copies of himself. Frigga's own smile gave away how impressed she truly was, and Loki kept up the illusions for as long as he could before he felt himself stretched too thin and let them dissolve.

"To be fair," he said, taking a breath and walking towards the bench she was seated at, "I did have a very, very good teacher growing up."

"Only the best for my son," she said cheekily, watching the smile slowly fade from his face as he glanced up towards the sky. "A hundred visual copies is impressive indeed, but can you make a solid one?"

His brief faraway look gave way to sudden interest as he met his mother's gaze. "The copies are only illusions - I thought -"

"They are," she nodded. "Do you remember how I first explained to you the trick of projecting an illusion?"

"You told me that it's like a dream," Loki recalled. "An extension of consciousness."

"Yes," she smiled. "A dream is an illusion of its own. And sometimes, in dreams, we can feel touches and sensations, even pain. Yes?"

"Yes," Loki nodded.

"Illusion isn't purely visual. It can be physical as well. Just like a dream."

Suddenly Loki felt a hand take his, and he looked say from Frigga to his other side to find a double of her sitting there, and her hand felt entirely real, even warm.

Loki laughed appreciatively, knowing what he'd be spending every moment of free time practicing for the foreseeable future. "Oh, Mother. Just when I think I've finally surpassed you as the family master of magic, you go and show me this."

She smiled and the double vanished. "You will, Loki. By the time you have reached my age, you will have abilities that I cannot yet fathom. I've known that since before you could walk."

He gave her a small smile. "Only time will tell."

"Do you know why I taught you my tricks, Loki?"

He shook his head lightly.

"I knew from the first time I held you in my arms," she smiled, "that you were different. In a beautiful way. Where I saw so much of Odin in Thor, I saw myself in you. I still do."

"I'm glad one of you does."

Frigga sighed lightly and took his hand in her own. "Darling... Odin loves you as dearly and strongly as I do, you know that."

"And yet today is another day for he and Thor to bond, I suspect through rousing conversations of the joys of being the chosen heir to the throne, while I am relegated to my usual place in the shadows."

Frigga didn't flinch at her son's bitter tone. She simply let him continue.

"I don't want the throne," Loki clarified. "I only want... _wanted._.. equal consideration. I was owed that much, Mother."

She nodded lightly, then inhaled softly before speaking again. "When your father made the decision to have Thor chosen to ascend the throne, he did not do so lightly. Thor may be heir, but you have a much greater role than you realize."

"How?" Loki asked.

"When Thor becomes King," Frigga said, "he will need you by his side. Where he is weak, you are strong. You will be his greatest ally and advisor, Loki."

Loki's eyes widened slowly, his head inclining as his mouth dropped open slightly. "_Advisor_. I am to be Thor's brain?"

"His conscience. His common sense. His most trusted source of honesty when few others would dare tell the King what he doesn't want to hear."

Loki's gaze was hardening as he stared angrily at the grass beneath his feet. "So I am expected to stand by and babysit him, making decisions and doing the work that he cares not to do while he basks in the glory of the throne and I stay in his shadow?"

"Loki..."

"Do you really think that he will be a wise King, Mother?" Loki asked, daring her to be honest.

She paused. "Yes. In time. As would you." When Loki scoffed, Frigga added, "If it were you on the throne, Loki, you would need Thor by your side just as he will need you."

Silently, Loki disagreed, but he wouldn't bother arguing the point.

"Son," Frigga said gently, "do not let rivalry or envy get between you and your brother. You both have a great gift in one another that cannot be underestimated. Either one of you would make a great King, but together - even Odin himself cannot hope to accomplish what the two of you could."

Loki didn't doubt that. It simply made his blood boil to know that no matter what, regardless of of any of it, he would forever be the lesser son.

Old words belonging to Odin floated tauntingly through his head. _Only one of you can ascend to the throne, but... you were both born to be kings._

And they called _Loki_ a liar.

* * *

By the end of the day, Aemilia fell into her bed and prayed that Loki would give her the night off. She was so, _so_ tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She needed to sleep - her auditions were creeping closer, and she needed to be in top form for them. She also needed to stop being so damn irritable around her mother, and it was hard to do that when she was irritable at everything due to the simple fact of being awake.

Still in her dress that she'd worn all day, she curled up in bed and lay on her stomach with her head on her pillow, closing her eyes and wondering if Loki would just let her sleep if he came to retrieve her and found her unconscious.

She got her answer just as she started to nod off. He materialized out of thin air, sitting on the edge of her bed near her feet. She felt his weight dip into the mattress but she didn't move, pretending to still be asleep. He didn't buy it.

She groaned as his cool hand ran over her bare foot poking out from under her skirt. "I'm tired."

He didn't reply, but his hand rubbed gently up to her ankle and back down again. She enjoyed the simple touch for a moment before she shifted to glance his way, something inside of her stirring at the quietly intense look on his face.

He looked as tired as she felt. Maybe a bit angry too. He wore just a dark green tunic and black leather pants, and his hair was loose behind his ears, just as she liked it. She rolled to her back and his hand stilled on her ankle while his eyes bored into hers.

Aemilia wondered how she was supposed to act now after last night's events. She also wondered why she was still in her own room and not his.

As if to answer her second thought, Loki glanced at her door, and it glowed a deep violet for a strange moment. She looked at him questioningly, and he stated simply, "I want to have you in your bed tonight. That will keep anyone from hearing or entering."

The simple change in scenery was enough to wake her up. This was her room, her territory, and the thought of sleeping with Loki here felt different somehow. It also seemed especially scandalous, to do so while the rest of the house slept.

"Take off your dress," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

So it was back to normal, she thought somewhat in relief, as she sat up to oblige. Maybe he'd act like last night never happened, never mention it and let it be forgotten. It was both a relief and a disappointment.

He only removed his tunic as she bared herself to him. Once everything she wore was on the floor, he said, "Come sit on my lap, straddle me."

He was still sitting on the bed's end, one of his feet on the floor and his body curved in her direction. She crawled to him obediently and did as he said, meeting his eyes fully once she was on his lap. He only held her gaze for a moment before looking down at her lips, and she knew then that they were certainly _not_ back to normal after all.

His hands were at his sides, and hers were on his shoulders. His expression was unreadable. He looked like he was a million miles away, and he only looked back to her eyes when she lifted his chin and forced him to.

"What's wrong?" she whispered softly, searching his green eyes for something - anything - that she could decipher, and finding nothing. He was looking at her as if she were a puzzle that he was trying to piece together, and she couldn't say that she felt entirely comfortable with that level of examination.

Needing to do something to break the tension, she leaned in to kiss him. He pressed two fingers to her lips to stop her, and when he let them linger there, she kissed them much like he had kissed her thumb the night before. Something flashed in his eyes, and she jumped on the small reaction by taking it a step further, kissing his fingertips again before parting her lips and sucking them into her mouth. She made a show of it for him, and at last his blank expression changed to one that she did know well.

She released his fingers when he tugged them back gently, and then they were moving between her legs. She exhaled sharply and then went to work on getting him ready along with her, doing all of the little things she knew sent jolts through his blood - a nip to his ear, a swipe of her tongue on a certain spot on his neck, a soft scrape of her nails through his scalp and then down his back. More than anything she knew he enjoyed her responses to the pleasure he gave her, so she didn't bite back any moans or spare him any well-earned mewls as his fingers played with her. He never lost that intense look about him, though, and when she reached between them to pull him from his pants, she could have sworn that she saw a flash of guilt in his eyes. But as quick as it appeared, it was gone, along with his fingers, and he'd lifted her up and slid her down his length before she could so much as blink.

He only kept them like that for a moment before Aemilia found herself down on her back, his lips and teeth on her neck as he moved urgently within her. She gripped his hair and rocked up against him, knowing from the way he was moving that he wouldn't last terribly long. It only meant that he wouldn't be satisfied and would do this probably twice more before the night was over.

He knew it too, and reached between them to coax her to her own end while he still had the chance. He let go only a moment after she did, groaning into her neck and burying himself into her as deeply as he could on his last stroke. She ran her fingers soothingly though his hair as he calmed down, then squeaked in surprise when he rolled to his side and took her with him.

He made no effort to disjoin their bodies, and she didn't either, more concerned with the return of his unreadable look as he stared into her eyes. It was even worse than it had been before, and her brows knit slightly as his eyes dropped down to her lips again. She was almost too distracted by his gaze to notice his hand moving up and down her side, a daringly soft caress that she wasn't accustomed to.

"Loki," she breathed softly, placing her hand on his cheek. "Tell me what's wrong."

He didn't answer her. Instead, he kissed her.

* * *

He was surrounded by her, literally and figuratively, and he felt like he was drowning. The sheets under his body smelled just like her, the ends of her hair fanned on her pillow and tickled his shoulder, and he never wanted to pull himself out of her. She was looking up at him with those big green and brown eyes of hers, her lips calling out to his own, and he'd held out as long as he could. There was no going back to the way things had been - he'd had a taste of deeper intimacy and now he wanted it all, like the greedy, spoiled prince that he was.

He kissed her just as she knew she wanted him to, slowly and deeply and thoroughly, and he didn't know how he could have gone for so long without this. It made his chest feel uncomfortably tight and his head spun a bit, reminding him almost of being drunk as she kissed him back with abandon.

On it went, a twisting and tangling of tongues with no greater motives than to taste and savor one another, and only when it became too much and he had to pull away did he realize how gently he had been cradling her entire body to his the whole time. She was pressed so close to him, one of her hands in his hair and the other on his chest, and she looked so utterly beautiful to him in that moment that he couldn't not tell her.

"You beautiful creature," he breathed against her mouth as his eyes drank her in. She let out a surprised little huff at his words, and all he could do was kiss her again. "You've made a fool of me."

She seemed too stunned to ask what he meant, and he was glad - he'd rather continue to taste her mouth than listen to her talk. Still, he couldn't understand - how could _this_ girl, out of all the others that he'd had in the near-thousand years of life, be the one to make him lose control like this? How could he be content to just kiss her, just feel her lips against his, when the rest of her was bare and at his command?

How could he ever live without this again?

He was shaken from his thoughts when her leg snaked around his hip and pulled him as close as she could manage at the angle. She arched and her breasts brushed softly against his chest before she pressed them fully against him, biting his bottom lip as she clenched around him. He twitched within her, not missing the irony of her being ready for more before he was, but he was eager to please her.

She rocked her hips against his and clenched again, and an indistinct low growl of some kind left his throat as he nibbled her lip. She kept it up, rocking and grinding against him, and he matched her each time, and they remained that way until it was no longer enough for both of them.

"On your other side," he purred into her ear before giving her a gentle push. She whined when he slid out of her but then her back was against his chest and his arm held her securely to him by her waist, and one swing of her leg backwards over his later, he sheathed himself inside of her once more and she sighed in contentment.

At first she lay her head on the pillow with her eyes closed while he kissed her neck, thrusting against her at his usual brisk starting pace - he had no idea how to do this part gently and he didn't want to anyway - but then he gave her outer ear a nip and a lick and ordered, "Look at me."

She craned her neck to do as he said, and he took one of her hands and placed it in his hair and added, "Hold on." She clutched a handful of his dark strands and then moaned as he covered her mouth with his and began to take her significantly harder. Their kisses became the rough, dominating ones that he was far more used to, and it suited them both just fine as they moved carelessly hard against one another.

He was so caught up in it all, so lost in the passion of it that her voice against his lips took him by great surprise. "You're too quiet, you're never this quiet."

He had been groaning with increasing volume since they'd began so he knew she meant actual words rather than just general sounds. He smirked and kissed her again. "Is it not the same without my words spurring you on?"

"It's..."

He pushed her hip upwards a bit and hit a new spot within, and her entire body shuddered with pleasure. "It's what?" he grinned.

"It..."

Her voice died and was reborn as a ragged gasp when his hand delved between her legs. "I'm listening."

"I can't... just..."

"Shhh," he hushed, kissing the corner of her mouth and drawing her into a long kiss. "You're close, yes?"

She nodded frantically, and he placed his lips to her ear, increasing the speed of both his hand and his hips as he let just one more moment pass before he commanded somehow both gruffly and silkily, "Say my name."

She let out an indecipherable sound in response, and bit her earlobe before rasping again, "Say it, Aemilia, say my name."

She obeyed mindlessly as her climax washed over her, almost shrieking it, and he shut his eyes tight and let the sound take him down alongside her. Even in that moment of physical ecstasy, listening to this bewildering creature moan his name in the throes of her own release, it wasn't enough to fully satisfy him. He still wanted more. He wanted everything and nothing else, nothing less, all of her, all for him.

But he was alone in this, he knew as he felt her fall limp and happy into his arms. She was the very picture of satisfaction, flushed and loose and dripping with sweat - some hers, some of his own - and she smiled shyly at him when he rolled her to her back and stayed on his side with his arm around her waist. He wondered how she could do that, be so open and bare and enticing to him and still manage to smile _shyly_. He also wished he could be as blissfully and utterly sated as she so clearly was.

Maybe satisfaction simply wasn't in his nature.

He watched a single bead of sweat drip down her neck towards her collarbone, and with little preceding thought, he dipped his head down and licked it off. She giggled - really giggled - and he lifted his head to look at her in mild confusion.

"That tickled a bit," she said softly, touching his cheek.

"You're ticklish?" he asked skeptically. "I would have noticed by now if you were."

"It's only sometimes, in some places," she shrugged.

His lips quirked at the corners. "Where?"

"I'm not telling," she smiled back.

"Then I'll have to find out myself," he said mischievously, dropping his head back down to her chest. She protested light-heartedly but didn't really try to stop him as he searched for her weak spots, distracting her with touches that she loved while running fingertips over her experimentally. He got a very slight giggle and jerk from her when he reached her upper ribcage, then absolutely nothing until he reached her legs and started touching down the back of one. She tensed and he looked up at her with an eyebrow raised. "Am I getting warmer?"

She shook her head, but her smile told him otherwise. His fingertips danced down the back of her thigh and then brushed softly over the back of her knee, and she immediately laughed and covered her face with her hands.

"Aha," he grinned before launching a deliberate assault. She only laughed and squirmed for a moment before she shot up and tried to fight him off, and he let her, finding her laugh and smile contagious. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled just to smile.

And so they sat there, only an inch away from one another, tension clouding the terribly brief moment of ease as Aemilia looked openly into his eyes. He knew that she was trying to understand him, trying to piece him together as much as he had been trying to do the same to her earlier. All he wanted was to touch her again, wrap himself up in her and breathe her in until he understood what it was about her that had so ensnared him.

When she gave up on on trying to read him, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He let the simple sensation wash over him, then felt his insides freeze as an unpleasant thought suddenly seized his mind.

"Has he kissed you?" Loki asked in a whisper against Aemilia's lips. She looked up at him and he added more harshly, "_Has he?_"

"No," she replied quietly. "He tried, but... I didn't let him."

"Good," he breathed in relief, kissing her again as he wrapped his arms around her and brought them both back down to the bed. "Good girl."

He needed this to run its course, quickly. The rage he felt at the thought of her being kissed or touched by another terrified as much as astounded him, and yet he couldn't control himself from slipping further down the downward spiral he was on. He needed to reach the bottom, to let himself burn for her until the flames died and he was free to move on, because he knew this would not last.

For now, there was nothing left to do but bask in the mystery of this strange, innocent little creature, and push away the nagging and uncharacteristic guilt of what he had allowed to happen that morning in his chambers, all the while pretending that what he was doing wasn't at all self-destructive or counter-productive.

She was his obsession, his fixation, his escape. He held her, kissed her, teased her, touched her, and smiled with her until he could handle none of it any longer, and he vanished from her bed without a goodbye and left her to sleep.

The poor girl had no idea what she'd done to him.

**A/N: hopefully nobody hates me too much for the first section of this update :p Thanks to all the reviewers and new followers, you guys have surpassed my expectations greatly with the response to this story! I value any & all feedback, so keep it coming :) my usual thanks to the lovey midnightwings96 as well, she's responsible for lots of awesome ideas that are coming chapters, so keep sticking with me! :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: sticking this up here at the top today because I want to lavish the appropriate praise and gratitude upon midnightwings96 for her help co-writing a major portion of this chapter. Without her help, input, and tweaking of this chapter, it would have been rather horrible, so I bow to her thank deeply thank her, and you all should too, because she saved you from reading crap :D I know nothing of opera, or theater in general really, so everything good and detailed about the opera portion of this (including the entire storyline of the opera itself) is all thanks to her. What can I say, she's totally freaking amazing :D Also, my continued thanks for the reviews, alerts and favorites, it brings me joy every time I get a notification in my inbox :D Happy Thanksgiving to all as well, and I hope you guys enjoy the longest chapter yet :D **

Nearly a month after the palace banquet, Aemilia awoke in her bed at dawn in a marvelous mood. Her hard work had paid off, and tonight, she was making her debut performance in an epic drama beginning its run at the city theater. Once she had gotten over the shock of landing the role, excitement and nerves had set in, and she had spent nearly every waking moment throwing herself into the role and making time only for the occasional hour or two with her parents or friends, and of course, her nights with a certain insatiable Prince.

To her surprise, Loki had agreed to leave her be the night before, to ensure that she got plenty of sleep prior to her debut. His behavior in general continued to confound her, and she would have stopped trying to track his exhausting mood swings if she weren't fascinated by them. As it was, the more she tried to understand him the less she actually did.

She sighed against her pillow, lying on her stomach as she brushed away thoughts of Loki and focused on the day ahead. She ran through her schedule for the day in her mind as she rolled over to her back, then abruptly lost her train of thought when she collided with a hard chest.

She looked up and blinked away her surprise at the sight of Loki, in a thin green robe with gold accents throughout and on the cuffs of his sleeves, on his side, propped up on his elbow and looking wonderfully like he'd just rolled out of his own bed to just causally appear in hers.

"Good morning," he grinned, his voice hoarse enough to convince her that he really had just rolled out of bed.

She laid her forearm over her eyes and sighed, "I wish you wouldn't make a sport out of showing up at the most unexpected times."

"I've merely come to wish you good luck," he said with a smile, tugging her arm off her eyes by her wrist. She responded by playfully glaring at him.

"I have much to do this morning," she said, trying to sit up and finding herself thwarted by Loki's hand that suddenly came to rest under her collarbone and urged her back down.

"As do I," he replied, the rasp in his voice deliberate now as he moved to hover above her. "But I wouldn't want you to begin your big day feeling... less than completely relaxed."

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow as he pressed some of his weight down on her, bringing one of his hands to her hair. "Yes, I am sure that your motives are purely selfless."

"You don't believe me?" he asked before dropping a soft but quick kiss to her lips. Ironically, it was now nearly always he who initiated their kisses, and he who would be loathe to end them.

"I believe no words that leave your lips," she replied, trying not to gasp a little as he kissed her neck. She couldn't help but slide her hand into his beautifully sleep-mussed hair, letting her other one settle on his shoulder as his own hands busied themselves pulling up the skirt of her nightgown.

"Smart girl," he grinned against her neck. He then moved his lips down to her shoulder, where he bit her skin gently and quickly soothed it over with his tongue before she tightened her hold on his hair and wrenched him back up to kiss him unexpectedly hard. Her hand that had been on his shoulder slithered down his chest and then tugged on the tie of his robe before bypassing the fabric in favor of the bare skin underneath.

He chuckled and grabbed her wrist away when she grasped him, placing her hand beside her head as he ended their kiss to say, "Now, now... I'm here for you, remember?"

She opened her mouth to retort and restate her skepticism, but then a sudden, single long finger sliding within her left her speechless - when had his hands even roamed down there, anyway? - and he smiled at her sudden inability to speak. "I'm curious... do you walk about all day in a constant state of readiness, or is it simply the mere sight of me that makes you gush like this?"

There was no way in all the realms that she was going to answer that one honestly - his ego was out of control enough as it was - so she kept her mouth shut and hissed as a second finger joined his first. She let herself start moving against him when his thumb started toying with her, applying enough pressure to make her squirm and wriggle for more but not enough to bring any real relief. "I could ask you the same, you know."

He'd been trailing his tongue along the dip of her neckline when her voice roused him. "Hm?"

"You -" she faltered as his fingers curled, then forced herself to recover. "You're always ready, too, the very moment you show up."

She felt his smirk as he kissed her jaw, and his voice was low and alluring as he spoke. "Would you like to know why that is?"

She couldn't answer, because his tongue was licking a trail to her ear and his hand was still working at a leisurely pace and if she tried to speak, she'd just squeak and embarrass herself. "Before I come to take you for the night," he said against her ear, "I think about all of the things that I plan to do to you. I think of the way you look in my bed when you're lying there at my mercy, gasping my name as you take what I give you like the wanton creature that you are."

Aemilia felt that by now she should be able to toss lascivious words back at him, play his game and make him as affected as she was by his talk, but every time he got on a roll like that, she could do little else but half-groan in response and try not to unravel then and there.

"You plague my mind," he continued, nipping at her earlobe, letting his fingers quicken their work by a fraction, and he groaned a little as her nails bit into his shoulder. "Your smell never leaves my skin. I think of your lips, your skin, your _taste_ - it makes my mouth water even now to think of it."

She moaned when he kissed her then, brought close to her peak by his words, but he withdrew his fingers and slid down her body before she could so much as blink. His own words had inspired him, evidently, and he slithered under the blanket still covering her from the waist down and didn't hesitate to sate his thirst for her.

She decided that she wanted to wake up every day like this and allowed her head to roll back into her pillow, every nerve in her body coming to life at the swipe of the Prince's tongue. She wouldn't hold out for much longer, and she looked down towards him only to frown when she saw nothing but her light violet-hued blanket - why was he under there to begin with? It was odd, because he was always so showy and keen on eye contact for this sort of thing. She started pushing clumsily at the blanket, about to just rip it away when a sound at her door made her freeze in horror.

Her eyes shot towards the sound and widened in terror as she watched the knob turn, hearing her mother call her name simultaneously. She felt Loki freeze against her, but instead of simply vanishing as she expected him to, she watched his legs that had been dangling off the foot of her bed simply become invisible as the rest of him flattened beneath the covers. Then the door burst open and she tried not to completely panic.

"You _are_ awake," Ayre said, stepping halfway to the bed and planting hands on her hips. "You should have been up and at breakfast twenty minutes ago!"

"I -" Aemilia faltered instantly, feeling a shot of pleasure rocket through her as Loki, bastard that he was, resumed his work as if he'd just been stopping for a breath.

"Dagr will be here within the hour," Ayre went on. "He offered to escort you to the theater and he will, of course, be attending with your father and I tonight."

Aemilia opened her mouth to protest - she didn't need an escort to go to a place she practically lived at - but then there were two fingers adding to her torture and Loki was suckling her with enough force to make her fall apart three times over if she hadn't been fighting it so hard. She was going to kill him.

"Are you well, darling?" Ayre asked in concern, taking another step forward. "Your face is flushed - are you feverish?"

_Valhalla, take me now_, Aemilia thought miserably, able only to reply in a voice much too high pitched, "No, Mother, I am fine. I will be ready when Dagr arrives." Loki briefly detached from her long enough to bite her thigh, she suspected as punishment for saying her intended's name. He then redoubled his efforts, and she had to fight desperately hard not to succumb to him.

Ayre nodded hesitantly. "I'm sure you're nervous, dear, but you have nothing to fear. Today will be your day of triumph."

Aemilia tried to return her mother's unusually warm smile, but it came out as more of an odd grimace as she nodded too quickly. "Thank you, mother."

"I shall be awaiting you in the dining room," Ayre said, finally turning and heading back towards the door. "Do hasten - we know Dagr has a penchant for turning up early."

Relief washed over Aemilia as Ayre walked through the doorway and began to close the door. "Yes, I know. I'm coming." She then realized how poorly chosen her words were and covered her face with her hands in mortification as the door creaked shut and Loki laughed at her expense. She was going to _actually_ kill him.

Her door shimmered with magic - just about ten minutes too late, she noted angrily - so she tore the cover away from Loki as he became visible once more, meeting her gaze with eyes positively sparkling with mischief as his mouth urged her to stop fighting and give in.

"I am going to kill you," she seethed, trying to sound menacing and angry but instead sounding more breathless than anything. She then dropped back down on her pillow and gave in at last.

The anger and sheer terror she'd just experienced didn't detract from her climax at all, and she would never admit if it actually managed to heighten it instead. She also stayed completely silent, not daring to give Loki the satisfaction of hearing a single sound of pleasure leave her lips, and she bit a hole in her bottom lip in the process.

She breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally over, her body turning utterly limp and anger ebbing for just a moment as she began recovering from her ordeal. When she begrudgingly opened her eyes to look down at Loki, she found him to be sort of lounging between her legs, cheek resting on her thigh as he looked up at her with far too much joy and amusement on his face. Once their gazes locked, he started casually licking off his fingers, and that was when Aemilia rolled her eyes and grabbed him by his hair and hauled him up to her.

She sat up as he kneeled before her, and she knew he expected the slap that her palm delivered to his smirking face.

"Oh, now that's not nearly hard enough to teach me my lesson," he teased, so she slapped him again, harder this time.

He purred - actually _purred_ - and Aemilia could have slapped herself for taking on a lover so deranged as to enjoy being slapped in the face as hard as possible. He simply smirked more and raised a brow to her. "I await my punishment, my lady."

She cursed at both herself and her lover as she pushed him down to his back, not having the will or desire to send him away without his own satisfaction. But she'd make him work for it.

The look on his smug face said it all as his head hit her pillow and she straddled him, and she controlled her urge to slap him again. She didn't have the luxury of time at the moment, truly having to prepare herself for the day very soon, so she couldn't torture him with a long wait. In fact, if he didn't play along, there was little that she could do to torture him in turn, but he _did_ say that he was awaiting his punishment. Fair enough, she decided.

"Hands on the headboard," Aemilia said, and he gave her a briefly unimpressed look before doing as she said, reaching behind his head and placing his palms flat against the wood. "Keep them there," she added before abruptly sliding herself over his length and taking him in.

She quickly regretted taking away the use of his hands, because to her shame, she missed them greatly. She didn't even feel all that angry anymore, and the realization made her wince as she rode him briskly. He seemed just as frustrated as she was, however, and that was a small comfort.

"Can't you take that thing off?" he asked irritably, scowling at her nightgown as it covered all but her legs and some of her neckline, pooling at his waist and preventing him from seeing anything of what was happening.

She responded by grinding down against him, making him hiss as she replied, "Don't talk unless I tell you to."

That earned her another arched brow, then a small little smile as he again decided to play along. She then leaned down, pressing her lips to his neck and tangling a hand in his hair as she controlled their ever-quickening pace, and she moved and kissed and touched him in ways all meant to make him shake with the need to touch her in return, and it worked.

She saved kissing his lips for when she could sense him nearing his end. When she did, she kissed him hard and heard his nails scraping into the wood beneath his palms, and the sound spurred her to break away and lean her forehead against his as she whispered, "Say my name."

He chuckled low in his throat, breath coming in hard rasps, and he replied, "Darling, I will shout your name from this very rooftop if you let me touch you."

"Your hands stay where they are, or you'll finish by them," she said daringly. She kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip, and she glanced towards the headboard when she heard the wood begin groaning under his hands. He was gripping a portion of it now, and she knew that it would simply split into pieces if she didn't let him move. If a broken headboard wouldn't have been such a hard thing to explain to her parents later, she would have let him break it, but instead she rolled her eyes and muttered, "Fine, touch me." _Bastard_.

His hands were under her nightgown scouring every inch of her skin before she could blink. His arms encircled her and held her in place as he thrusted up into her, harder and harder, and she pressed her lips to his once more when he knew he was at the cusp. "Say my name, my Prince."

Aemilia hadn't expected him to take hold of her by the back of her neck and look her in the eye as he followed her command, but he did, and he moaned her name out like something between a prayer and a curse as he found his end. It made her wish that she had done this long ago, back when he'd first made her do the same for him. It was sinfully intoxicating, and his gaze was far more intense than she could grasp.

She watched every stage of his release, watched as it slowly slipped away from him and left him with closed eyes and starving lungs as he held her close, and when he eventually opened his eyes and caught her gawking, he didn't seem to mind. Instead, he smiled lazily and brushed her hair behind her ear. "I am beginning to suspect that I shall never tire of you, little one."

Thinking him fully ridiculous to say such a thing when they both knew it wasn't true, Aemilia simply drew herself up and carefully extricated herself from him with a look that she hoped conveyed her lingering anger. "How lucky I am."

She then rose from the bed, as she should have twenty minutes ago, and rolled her eyes at his response of, "Indeed."

When she turned to glare at him, she found him to be gone.

* * *

Loki had taken the time only to refasten and fix his robe before vanishing himself back to his room in the palace. He appeared in the middle of his chambers, wearing a look of smug satisfaction that faded as soon as he turned around and nearly knocked into the ridiculously broad chest of his brother. Who was smiling so broadly and stupidly that it instantly killed Loki's fantastic mood.

"Brother," Thor greeted with a slight nod.

"Is there a reason why you're lurking in my chambers at this hour?" Loki asked, taking a step back and eyeing Thor warily. "If you've lost your hammer again, I'm rather sure my bed is the last one it would turn up in."

"How does the Lady Aemilia fare?"

"Who?"

Thor narrowed his eyes and followed Loki as he wandered across the room, never losing his grin. "You do not need to lie, Loki, I've known the identity of your mystery love since the banquet. I know you think me slow, but am not _that_ slow."

Loki gave an unimpressed shrug, his back turned to Thor as he stalled at his desk and poured a small cup of juice from a tray that had been sent to his room in his absence. Thor added, "I assume she is the reason why I came here to find you gone, only to watch you reappear a moment later in only a robe and wearing a rather satisfied smile."

Sipping the juice, Loki turned to Thor and raised a single brow. "If you've a point to make, brother, I suggest you make it."

"Well, as pleased as I am to see that you've finally found someone who can hold your interest - Loki, she's nearly engaged."

Seeing no point in continuing his ruse of denial, Loki replied, "Yes, I've noticed."

"Do you plan to interrupt the engagement?"

Loki furrowed his brows. "Interrupt? You mean -"

"She's of a respected, noble family - her father Haidr fought alongside Father many years ago - if you wished to make her your own, I am sure that Mother and Father would approve, but you must act quickly if -"

Loki couldn't stop from laughing at Thor's words. "You think I wish to marry her? I assure you, brother, I have no desire to chain her to my side for all eternity, and I doubt she desires it either."

Thor's expression faltered a bit as he searched for words. "But... oh, Loki," his expression suddenly darkened, "surely you do not intend to make an adulterer out of the lady."

The sort of resigned disappointment in Thor's voice made Loki almost sneer in annoyance. "I can tell you in full honesty that I do not intend to make anything out of the lady."

"So you will leave her be, then, when the engagement is official?"

Despite his own words and insistence to the contrary, Thor's words made Loki's jaw clench and his chest feel terribly tight for a brief moment. At this point in time, he truthfully did doubt that he would ever leave her be completely, and the thought of another man bedding her was as excruciating as it had ever been. "As much as I love these heart-to-hearts you insist on having from time to time, I really have no desire to discuss my private affairs further."

"_Private affairs_ - Loki, are we not brothers?" Thor asked incredulously as Loki magicked his usual clothing on without so much as a blink. "What happened to the days when we were in one another's confidence with matters such as this?"

As he did many times with Thor, Loki bit his tongue and did not let loose the myriad of sharply conceived answers that instantly flowed through his mind. He simply controlled himself and answered smoothly, "She is but a momentary distraction. I will tire of her soon and move on, as I always do."

Thor looked a bit crestfallen at this proclamation, and Loki tried not to roll his eyes. "For your sake, I hope that's true. Otherwise you will live to regret allowing her to be married to another."

"Don't worry yourself with such nonsense," Loki said, running a hand through his hair and walking smoothly past Thor and towards his bedroom door. "Now come along before we miss breakfast and must bear Mother's wrath."

They made it to breakfast just in time, Loki appearing as aloof as ever and Thor looking mildly worried, which grated on Loki's nerves as he sat dutifully at Frigga's side and Thor sat where Odin normally did. The All-Father was busy elsewhere in a meeting with his advisors, and it was not uncommon, so neither brother bothered to ask of his absence.

"And here I thought you boys would leave your mother to dine alone," Frigga said with a smile.

"I can't speak for Thor, but I'd never dream of it," Loki replied sweetly, and Thor nearly rolled his eyes.

"It is not I who caused our tardiness today, Mother," Thor noted, but he didn't elaborate further.

"It matters not," Frigga said softly, watching as her older son dove unceremoniously into a plate of sausages, while her younger one eyed him in distaste before setting to his own meal with all the delicacy of a haughty prince. Night and day, they certainly were. "Have either of you plans for this day?"

Thor held up a hand as he swallowed a large mouthful, then said, "I shall be training until darkness falls."

Frigga nodded, then turned to her other son. "And you, Loki?"

"I've nothing to do of particular importance," he shrugged, which meant he'd be holed up in his room in a sea of books and probably about fifty copies of himself wandering around as he continued to master the art of concentrating elsewhere while keeping his copies conjured. It was more exhausting than anyone gave him credit for.

"Good," Frigga replied. "Then you can accompany me to the opera tonight. It is opening night for one of my favorite shows, and the Lady Aemilia is playing the main role. I was quite impressed by her when she sang for the court recently."

Thor had choked on a gulp of water at the sound of Aemilia's name, and It was a testament to Loki's self-control that he didn't turn the water to mud and really give Thor something to choke on. Instead, he smiled at Frigga and replied, "Of course I'll accompany you."

She smiled in turn and then glanced at Thor. "You are welcome to shirk your duties for a day and come as well."

Loki wondered what would win out in Thor's mind, his hatred of sitting through something that held no interest for him, such as an opera, or his love of tormenting Loki. He made a prediction in the matter, and it turned out to be accurate.

"I... fear that I would fall asleep and offend the Lady," Thor said, honesty evident in his tone. "I would not want to reflect poorly on the family with such a show of disrespect."

"I understand," Frigga said gently, and Loki couldn't help but wonder if Thor had said something to her regarding his relationship with the singer. It seemed too coincidental, and Thor had never been very good at keeping his mouth shut. In any case, Frigga then turned to Loki and said, "Be ready by early evening."

Loki nodded, then glanced at Thor and scowled at the knowing look he was getting from his older brother. Things like this were precisely why he had tried so hard to keep Aemilia to himself.

* * *

The day had gone by in a dizzying blur, and Aemilia was an excited mix of nerves and anticipation by the time the show was a half-hour away from beginning. She was in her dressing room, looking into the mirror and adjusting her fiery-red wig atop her head as she drew in one of many deep breaths to come. Nerves were unavoidable, but she relished the rush that could only come with the stage. She'd only felt it to this magnitude once before, when she sang for the King those months ago. Despite the slight terror of the thousands of faces in the audience analyzing her every note and move, Aemilia couldn't deny that anticipation and absolute freedom that came with the stage couldn't be matched.

Her costume, the first of several she'd don tonight, was a simple peasant's dress, the kind she'd never worn before in her life unless it was for a production. It was a drab beige that washed out her complexion with the help of the wig, and the effect was intentional. The wig was swept into a bun at the back of her head, leaving small tendrils to fall and frame her face, and she only wore enough makeup to even her skin tone and enhance her eyes.

She was about to warm up her vocals when a flurry of movement at the door gained her attention. She turned in her seat to find one of the production's producers standing in the doorway, wearing an excited look on her slightly aged face as she said, "My lady! The Queen is here - Queen Frigga and Prince Loki, they have arrived and will be in attendance tonight!"

Aemilia didn't know why she was surprised, but she was. "I... oh. That's very exciting, indeed."

"Don't be nervous," the lady said quickly. "You've sang for them before, and you will be brilliant tonight. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you," Aemilia said sincerely, just before her vocal teacher rounded the corner and bypassed the producer to enter the room and begin her final vocal preparations before the show.

Aemilia's family and soon-to-be betrothed were in attendance as well. It was another crossing of her two lives, intersecting somewhat uncomfortably and leaving her with a small sense of unease in the back of her mind. She wouldn't entertain the feeling now, not when she had an opera to perform, but having her intended and her forbidden lover under the same roof and very possibly crossing paths at some point almost made her feel lightheaded with anxiety.

But that was a worry for another time. For now, with an exuberate cheer from her castmates, she made her way to backstage.

And with a deep breath, the house lights went down.

Showtime.

* * *

Loki sat beside his mother in the most elaborate box seat, reserved for those of importance such as themselves, and he was sprawled lazily in his seat as he scanned the others in attendance below him with mild disinterest. Frigga, by contrast, sat elegantly in a flowing gown of aqua, a peaceful gaze upon her eyes as she glanced at her son in amusement. "Bored already, darling?"

"Not at all, Mother," he replied, giving her a small smile as he looked away from the other seats. "I have been looking forward to this."

"I am so very grateful that one of my sons shares my interests," Frigga smiled back. "It has been eons since your father has accompanied me to the opera, and I'm sure you recall what happened the last time I dragged your brother to one."

"He began dueling with one of the audience during the intermission and nearly wrecked the stage, then fell asleep during the third act," Loki recalled, with an equal sense of derision and affection.

Frigga chuckled, and Loki let his eyes wander again, this time landing on the moving silhouette of Aemilia's intended as he led her mother and father to their assigned seats in the orchestra section, four rows from the stage. He felt the inklings of rage tease at the back of his mind at the mere sight of the lumbering fool, but he deliberately extinguished the anger with his sheer willpower and reminded himself that Aemilia despised the man nearly as much as he did. If only the guardsmen knew who had already taken what he sook, who had already tainted her body and mind with his searing touch before Dagr had even had the chance to properly kiss his would-be fiancée.

If he could, Loki would bind the man to a chair and make him watch as Loki took Aemilia, repeatedly, as many times as it took to make him and all others see that she was his and nobody else's, that she craved his touch above all others and always would, and that her satisfaction was his to command. He would laugh at the man's distress, take joy in it, revel in it, and only when he had his fill would he let the man limp back to his pathetically dull life, having eternally learned his place.

"What's so amusing, Loki?"

Realizing that he'd been staring at the back of Dagr's head and smirking slightly as he'd enjoyed his twisted fantasy, Loki blinked and instantly schooled his features. "Nothing." He had to remember, his mother was arguably the sharpest, most damningly perceptive person that he'd ever known, and she had the tendency to see through him at times as if he were translucent. He had to take care of how he appeared and acted in her presence.

"It's nearly starting," she said as the house lights dimmed, and Loki nodded and further relaxed in his seat.

He couldn't wait to hear her voice again.

* * *

When the curtains had risen and the show had begun, and her first note of the evening washed over the the audience sounding for all the world like an effortless waterfall, Loki closed his eyes for a short, blissful moment. When she sang, he had to wonder if she possessed some unknown sorcery to make such a sound spill from her lips. Her coloratura voice was high and delicate, jumping from note to note with ease, yet her voice rang through the audience with an amazing amount of power.

He opened his eyes and directed his full attention to the stage, to her, and let his mind still as he watched intently. She played a young maiden, Katrine, born into poverty and doomed to a future of the same, and the first act began with a heartbreaking scene of tragedy that would shape her character's future.

She sang fearfully, clutching a little girl to her arms - her sister - on a wooden staircase in her family's home, comforting the child as their mother and father fought viciously below them, in the kitchen. A loud, ominous thud put an abrupt end to the song, and the stage fell eerily silent as Katrine hurried down the stairs, sister in tow, towards what the audience knew would be a tragic scene, and indeed, there she found the grisly sight of her mother laying on the kitchen floor, blood oozing from her head and pooling at the feet of Katrine's father.

Loki winced slightly at the cry that filled the air. The father claimed innocence, claimed that it had been an accident, and Katrine responded in a wild, nearly inhuman rage - the stage rumbled and glass fixtures overhead shattered, and in a voice that held so much raw emotion while remaining unbelievably beautiful, Katrine raged at her father while her apparent gift for sorcery was revealed.

The scene ended with the father issuing a threat to Katrine that forced her magic to subside and earned her submission - that if she kept on with such sorcery, it would get her killed, just as it had gotten her mother killed. He then stormed from the scene after that confusing threat, with Katrine falling to her knees beside her fallen mother, singing mournfully and hauntingly for the loss of her one living parent, her sole ally and secret teacher of magic. Her beige dress was now smattered with blood stains, and her eyes were as red as her hair as she wept through the song, and not a single eye of the audience was cast anywhere but fully on her.

She let out one final note, impossibly quiet and tortured note that somehow rang through Loki's ears in a way he'd never heard before.

When the single light illuminating her figure died, Loki startled back to life as he glanced to his mother before focusing back on the darkened stage. The show had barely begun, but his expectations had already been exceeded. Perhaps it was time to stop underestimating Aemilia at every turn.

The story wound on, showing the further deterioration of Katrine's life in the wake of her mother's death. She practiced magic in secret as her father put her to work, forcing her to maintain the family home as her mother had, and all the while she suffered his verbal and occasional physical abuse. She protected her little sister from his abuse and dreamed of an escape, a way out of the hell that her life had become, all as hatred and anger twisted her heart into a shadow of the innocent thing that it had once been. She learned lethal spells from books that she had stolen and hidden, and some nights she would be sorely tempted to use them on her father, but she could never bring herself to do it.

Then one day it all changed. A new King was crowned, and a grand celebration was thrown in the city for all citizens, nobles and commoners alike. Katrine's father insisted they attend, and she put on her best dress - a golden, tastefully fitted gown that her mother had made herself when Katrine came of age - and put a smile on her face as they arrived at the celebrations.

Loki shifted slightly in his seat. He knew the story vaguely already, and he knew how the following scenes would progress, and he wasn't sure how he'd like seeing them. In the midst of the drinking and laughing and frivolity, the new King took a turn through the crowd, earning favor with his subjects by taking the time to speak to them and sharing in the festivities, and the odd effort would pay off immensely as he charmed them all. He was young and handsome, tall and blue eyed with short waves of gingery-blonde hair beneath his crown of gold, and the smile only fell from his face as he noticed the one maiden in all of the crowds who was not also smiling.

He approached Katrine, setting into motion a series of events that changed both of their lives forever; he found her glum and slightly weary appearance to be a mystery beneath her beauty, and she, having had a bit to drink, could not have been more stunned to have gained the attention of a King.

Loki watched the two sing together, eyes and hands and voices portraying the simple beginnings of seduction, and he didn't particularly like it. He did take satisfaction in the fact that even though the King was clearly talented, the only purpose his voice served was to enhance Aemilia's. He noticed, as the King whisked her away towards the celebration's end, that she looked at the man the same way that she had looked at him the night he first kissed her, on a balcony of his own palace. He wondered if she drew on that experience to act the scene out; _that_, he didn't mind.

Katrine realized that the King's interest could very well be her way out, a way to rise above it all and have a life she could have only dreamed of before - she need only play her role correctly and carefully. And she did, ending the night in the King's bed.

* * *

Somewhere in the midst of this, Frigga had turned her eyes to her son to find him utterly enthralled by the show, but something... peculiar about his expression had caught her attention. He was always more serious and studious than others, his expressions always more intense and focused, but there was also something else this time. It didn't take her long to realize that his eyes were fixed wholly upon the lady on the stage, the same lady whose name had made Thor choke slightly over breakfast, and the same lady with whom Loki had danced rather closely with at the recent banquet. She had noticed all of these things, and now they were beginning to make sense.

Frigga smiled and turned her eyes back to the stage. Oh, how her son loved to court trouble.

* * *

It was during the short intermission that Frigga's voice roused Loki from his almost meditative-like state.

"She's to be engaged, you know. To one of our own guardsmen."

Loki quickly turned his eyes to his mother, his expression deceptively blank. He considered playing it off, or lying, or both, but Frigga merely tilted her head knowingly, as if she could read his mind, and Loki realized there was no point. "Yes. I know."

"She is lovely," Frigga remarked. "Is she aware of your interest?"

_Extremely, indecently so_. "Yes."

"And does she return it?"

Loki was quite sure that Frigga was asking a rather scandalous question in a decidedly non-scandalous way. "Yes."

She sighed, and it was a long, subtly worried sigh. "Loki... you know what would happen to her if someone other than myself or your brother were to find out. She could be stripped of her title, disowned, banished."

"I know, Mother." His clipped tone made it clear that he didn't want to discuss it further, but Frigga ignored it.

"Do you care for her?"

The question made him nearly panic. He didn't expect to have such a reaction to it, but he truly didn't know the answer - he understood very little of the hold that Aemilia had over him, and he understood the feelings that she evoked in him even less.

Frigga took his silence as a yes. "She is not engaged yet. You know that once she is, very little can be done."

It was a simple, true statement, full of implications that almost made Loki laugh. "First Thor, and now you assume that I would want to be betrothed to this girl."

Frigga paused, choosing her next words carefully. "I _assume_ that the son I raised would not so carelessly toy with a girl's heart and then leave her to an undesired marriage once you've had your fill of her."

"Then perhaps you should convince Father to revise Asgard's laws on marriage, Mother," Loki replied with a shrug.

Frigga didn't flinch. "Act aloof as you always do, Loki, but I know you. And I've never watched you look at another the way that you look at her." She watched Loki's face almost fall at her words, as if he hated to hear such a thing, and she added quietly, "I've always told you that you are blind to nothing in all the nine realms like you are to yourself. It is true."

The intermission concluded as she finished speaking. Loki turned his eyes to the back of Dagr's head once more, and this time, he didn't bother to suppress the anger that sprang up within him.

* * *

The story continued with Katrine and the King embarking on a torrid affair that, on Katrine's part, was inspired equally by ambition as by lust. She no longer slipped quietly through each day, no longer waited in the shadows for her life to begin someday. She took her fate into her own hands, letting her vivid red hair fall in long waves down her back, painting her face as the noblewomen did and strikingly dressing the part of a King's mistress, in deep purples and midnight black, though she longed and schemed to be much more than just a mistress. She worked tirelessly to win the King's heart, and when he promised her that he would take her and her sister away from their plight and make her his wife - his Queen - she suddenly had all she could have ever dreamed of and more.

Loki had no trouble pouring himself back into the performance after the unexpected conversation between he and Frigga, once again focused wholly on his lover's voice and performance as he watched her dart around the stage in a state of bliss. He suspected she felt every bit as blissful as Katrine did - he'd never seen her so alight with joy and so in her element as she was on the stage. This was so clearly what she was born to do - anything in life that would take her away from it would be nothing short of a tragedy.

While her inner joy would surely remain, Katrine's came crashing down in flames on the day she was set to move into the palace with her little sister. She had them both ready, secretly so to spare them from their father's potential wrath, for a carriage to come and take them away from their wretched pasts forever. But the carriage never came - what did come was a wave of gossip throughout the land, alerting all to the news that the King was to be married within a week, to a noblewoman who was not Katrine.

Rage, jealousy, betrayal, and desperation - he could feel it all flowing from Aemilia - _Katrine_ - and he had been looking forward to this part. He wanted to watch her sink her teeth into this part, the dark turn of events, and see if she had what it took to pull it off.

Katrine, fueled by her swirling, dangerous, jilted emotions, had found the woman promised to the King and had mercilessly killed her by nightfall. Then, when the King retired to his chambers for the night, expecting to find his betrothed waiting in his bed, he found Katrine instead, laying there with a look of unadulterated revenge and power. When he demanded to know where his betrothed was, Katrine, with a strong, bellowing chord from orchestra, held out a hand and he was lifted up in the air by an invisible force, choking, as she proved to him just how powerful she truly was.

Loki smirked - Aemilia made quite the enchantress. He could watch her like that all day, despite the violence of the scene; her fiery hair flying beautifully around her magnificent, fury-filled face as she sang with a voice like silk and brought a King to his knees with the force of her mind. It was twistedly beautiful.

The King saw no choice but to give in to Katrine, and in mere days and one more scene, they were married. Katrine had it all - she and her sister were safe in the palace, she had a throne, wealth, a life that was only just beginning. She was Queen, and nothing would ever change that - she would be sure of it. She would steal and lie and kill to keep what was hers, and by the way the King glared contemptuously at his new wife from his throne next to hers, she knew what must be done next.

Corrupted by the lure of power and the fear of what fate awaited herself and her sister if the King were to decide to dispose of her, she decided to act first. A simple spell upon a palace servant, through one turn of her hand and a smile upon her lips, and the King was dead - poisoned, they said, by a servant. And _oh_, how the Queen mourned her fallen newlywed husband, and the kingdom their beloved young King.

But Katrine had unknowingly made a fatal error in her haste. Barely accustomed to life in the palace, she had not thoroughly checked her surroundings when she cast the spell upon the servant, and there had been a maid who watched it happen from behind a curtain. The maid told a guard, who told one of the King's advisors, who allowed the tip to be leaked to the public. And on the day of the King's funeral, the Queen's subjects turned against her.

Aghast and disgusted that their Queen was no more than a lying witch who had usurped the throne and killed an honorable King, word spread throughout the crowd that day, as night fell and the King was taken to Valhalla. Katrine sensed the murmurs and the rising ire as she walked hand in hand with her sister away from the funeral as it ended, felt the stares and the piercing glares from under her black mourning cloak, and yet she couldn't stop what happened next.

It was one foolish subject who jumped out from the crowd and screamed "_Witch!"_ as he hurtled a blade through the air that damned them all. The blade swished through the air as Katrine's sister jumped mindlessly in front of her, the sweet girl not yet corrupted by life and thus still innocent and pure enough to know no better than to lay down her life for a killer, even if that killer was her own sister. The blade pierced her heart, and Katrine screamed loud and raw enough to shake the very roots of Yggdrasil to its foundations.

She held the dying girl in her arms, innocent blood staining her arms and chest just as greed and hatred had tainted her soul and set into motion the events that had caused this to happen. It was her fault, her doing, and yet when it had all began, she had done it for her sister - to protect her, to keep her safe from an abusive father, and give them both a life with a chance at real happiness. Everything she had done, every terrible deed, every sin, it had all been for a purpose - and now that purpose lay dead in her arms.

The ground trembled beneath her as grief gave way to rage. The heavens opened up and her skin began to burn as she stood slowly, eyes burning and self-hatred erupting into open flames that seeped through her skin and also began to swell up through the ground and rain down from the sky. She did not lose control, but instead gave it away to her magic and allowed it to raze the city to the ground, with her in the midst of it, burning hotter than any of the others. The flames bent to her will with the rising chanting of her voice. Gone was the delicate, silky smooth voice, and what was left was an unbelievable, mature voice that consistently crescendoed to a point where it seemed to rattle the entire theatre in its power. Katrine greeted death with the knowledge that she fully deserved it and that she would never find peace in either life nor what lay after it. And she decided to bring everyone else down with her. And with one final note, her voice reached immeasurable heights, all the rage and hurt and beauty pouring from her glorious throat.

Visually, the show was stunning - the effects, especially that of the fire, Loki knew to be the work of some semi-talented sorcerers behind the scenes. He could have made it look even more realistic, but for what it was, it was gorgeous. But none of it would have mattered without its star, who truly brought the story to life and brought it so beautifully to its finale; an entire city, an entire kingdom burned to the ground by a misguided enchantress who had been trying to do good in all of the worst ways and, in the end, lost all that had ever mattered to her and all that had ever made her who she was underneath the layers of hatred and anger that had so warped her.

The applause was deafening as soon as the stage lights went dark. Loki felt an odd sense of pride swell in his heart for Aemilia, a pull of happiness that he imagined was magnified many times over for herself, and sure enough, when it was all over and she and the rest of the cast stood to take their bows to the audience, she smiled in a way that he thought she deserved to smile every day.

He watched her shining eyes sweep through the audience, and he felt another odd pull within when her gaze met his for the first time that night. He gave her a small, subtle smile as he continued to clap for her. Then he slowly rose to his feet, his smirk pulling more at his lips; she gave him the widest smile that her lips could physically give.

Beside him, Frigga watched the silent exchange. She didn't say a word, because the two smiles had said more than enough.

* * *

She felt high, drunk, and dizzy, all in the best ways possible - and the rush hardly ended with the show. Adrenaline continued to course through her veins, swirling with relief at how shockingly well it had all gone, and Aemilia spent the next hour positively bouncing along the theater as she was congratulated, hugged, and praised within an inch of her life.

She was in such a fantastic mood that the sight of Dagr popping up with a bouquet of red roses for her didn't make her roll her eyes or internally gag. Instead, she gracefully accepted the flowers and even gave the idiot a hug, and didn't begrudge him when he lingered by her side as others continued to stream steadily though her arms.

She was shocked back into a semblance of reality when the Queen and her son came elegantly into view, the crowd parting effortlessly before them, and really, she shouldn't have been shocked. A glance to Loki's amused eyes as he strode haughtily towards her was all that she allowed herself before she focused on the Queen and curtsied well in advance of their arrival - far be it that she appear to have any sort of comfort level around any of the royals when she wasn't supposed to.

"My Queen," she said lightly, shoving her bouquet of roses to Dagr before adding politely to Loki, "Your Highness."

To her shock, Frigga opened her arms and drew her into a warm embrace. "My dear girl," she cooed as Aemilia hugged her back and looked at Loki over her shoulder, who was smiling lightly at his mother's antics, "you were lovelier tonight than mere words can say - congratulations."

"Thank you," Aemilia said, bewildered, as the Queen released her with a smile. "I - thank you."

Frigga nodded, then glanced back to Loki and said, "My son enjoyed your performance as much as I did, I dare say. Didn't you, Loki?"

Loki gave his mother a look so quick and subtle that Aemilia almost thought she'd been seeing things, but then Loki stepped forward and met her gaze and she lost her train of thought.

"Indeed," he said, reaching out for her hand. To everyone around them - with the possible exception of Frigga - he looked no different than he ever did, but Aemilia could see the mischievous sparkle in Loki's eyes, and as she placed her hand in his, a wave of anxiety washed over her.

Raising her hand slowly, he said smoothly, "The beauty of your voice is paralleled only by the beauty I see before me now."

She stared openly at him - it was so unlike him to say anything like that, and for a moment she couldn't understand why in the world he'd pick now to say it. But then he brought her hand to his lips, and as he brushed a soft kiss over her skin, he looked at her briefly before darting his eyes over to glare at Dagr, who quickly cast his eyes to the floor as if embarrassed, and suddenly it all made sense. But that didn't stop his kiss from sending sparks of heat through her hand and up her arm, nor did it stop a faint blush from creeping up her cheeks when he lowered her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles before releasing it, back to sending her searingly deep eye contact that she could only pray wasn't visible to anyone else but her.

It was roughly the fourth time that day that she decided that she really needed to kill him.

"Thank you, your grace," she eventually stammered out, glancing back at the Queen to find her wearing the same pleasant expression as before. She hoped that meant that her face wasn't the big, bright, and shining display of guilt that it felt like it was.

"Of course," he replied, again glancing at Dagr, and only Frigga noticed the twitch of his hand as he did so.

"We will be sure to invite you to sing for the court again soon," Frigga said sweetly and sincerely. "It would be our honor to have you again."

Aemilia gratefully thanked her again, not noticing how Dagr began to itch his face suddenly until his eyes widened and he handed her back the bouquet. She glanced at him and almost gasped when she saw his face covered, out of nowhere, in big angry red blisters - blisters that were oozing even as he covered them with his hands and sprinted away in bewildered humiliation.

Loki barely tried to hide his smirk. Frigga did hide her internal eye-roll as she repeated her congratulations to Aemilia and then bade her farewell, and Loki turned to follow her out, but not before winking at Aemilia just for the hell of it.

"Was that truly necessary?" Frigga asked as she and Loki walked away.

"I've not the slightest idea what you speak of, Mother," Loki replied, wishing he could have made the blisters a permanent change rather than ones that would fade in an hour.

* * *

After a night full of light-hearted celebrating with friends that made Aemilia feel more normal than she had in months, she returned home still on a high and just the slightest bit tipsy, enough to warm her fingertips and get her thinking about what the rest of her night would hold. She still wanted to throttle Loki for his various antics throughout the day, but he'd saved her from having to deal with Dagr for the rest of the night with his blister trick, and the moment her eyes met his in the audience at the end of the show had lingered in her mind more than she cared to admit.

She didn't want her celebration to end when she came home - surely she shouldn't begrudge herself that, right?

She went up to her room, dressed in a dark blue dress and with her hair down and loose over her back, and she couldn't stop smiling as she opened the door and stepped inside. It was empty, for the moment; she turned and closed the door, and when she turned back, Loki was an inch away from her, holding a single, perfect golden rose in his hand with a solemn look in his green eyes.

She couldn't help but gasp at the flower - it was straight from the Queen's gardens, she knew, one of the special kinds that only grew there by her signature magic. If Loki had felt the need to outdo Dagr's red roses, then he certainly had, but she didn't know if that was why he had it.

"That's..."

She fell silent when he lifted the rose and trailed its outer petals over her cheek. It felt like silk against her skin, and when coupled with the way he was looking at her, it was a surprisingly sensual touch. "Beautiful," she finally finished, just before he ran the flower over her lips.

"I've seen better," he said, barely above a whisper. She then gently reached up and took the rose, as he dragged it down the front of her neck towards her chest, and pried it away from his fingers before walking away to place it somewhere safe. Being magically bred, it didn't require water the way other roses did - in fact, if the rumors were true about the Queen's roses, once picked, they never died.

She placed it on top of her dresser, knowing that when she turned around, he'd be there a breath away again. She was counting on it.

She turned and reached out, finding him exactly where she knew he'd be, and she grabbed him by his shoulders and yanked him to her, kissing him with a fierceness that seemed to take even Loki by surprise. She then pushed him up against the nearest wall with a dull thud, standing on the tips of her toes to reach him with her hungry lips, enjoying his mildly dumbfounded reaction to her unusual aggressiveness.

"Take me to your room," she breathed between kisses, and as soon as she uttered the words, his arms clamped around her waist and he vanished them to the middle of his room, a few steps away from his bed. She noticed that, and she pushed him back when he tried to push her toward it. "The wall," she said, and he raised an eyebrow, but he didn't argue. He took her wrist, and the next thing she knew, he'd tossed her against an open expanse of the wall between his bookshelves and went to work devouring her lips as he grabbed her and lifted her up. Her legs wound around his hips instantly and she let herself moan when he ground against her, pushing her hard into the wall, and she coaxed a moan out of him when she bit down harder on his lip than she'd ever dared to before.

Her hands reached between them to fumble with the laces of his pants, and somewhere in her head, she thought it was hilarious that he'd showed up in her room with a rose, possibly attempting romance for the first time, and she responded by demanding that he take her against the wall and biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. But, he didn't seem particularly displeased with the change in pace, and he ripped off her undergarments from under her skirts the same moment she finally managed to get his pants pushed down some, and he wasted no time slamming inside of her and making a painting above their heads shudder with the force of it. It was perfect.

She grabbed his hair and held on as he moved roughly against her, and he brought his lips and teeth to her neck, but she didn't feel like dealing with any lingering bite marks, so she pulled on his hair, hard, and he groaned with pleasure before raising his head back to hers and kissing her lips. She thought back to how much he'd enjoyed being slapped earlier that day, and then she pulled even harder on his hair, making his head jerk back and expose the pale column of his neck to her eyes, and his moan in response was shaky and loud. She drank up the sound and then sank her teeth into his neck, the way he liked to do to her, hard enough to leave a mark that would last for days, and this time his response was somewhere between another moan and a growl, louder this time. He grabbed her by her hair and slammed her back against the wall, making her yelp, and his eyes blazed as they looked into hers.

He looked like he was going to say something, but instead he growled again and clutched her to him as he suddenly spun them around, and she squeaked in surprise when she felt herself slam down on top of his desk. Papers crunched beneath her and he picked up just where he left off, moving fast and hard and kissing her just as roughly, and she would give a sharp dig of her nails in his back here and a bite of his lip or neck there, and the harder it was, the louder he'd groan. His sounds were addicting, and they alone were enough make her fall apart underneath him and give the night a fantastic start.

When he'd finished in a heap of satisfied moans on top of her on the desk, they moved to the bed and then began anew once they got around to shedding their clothes, and it was a wonderfully well-practiced routine by now. What they weren't fully accustomed to were conversations after, but somehow that night, they breeched that barrier as well.

He had gotten up to fetch them both cups of water - she giggled at that as she made herself comfortable under his sheets, the idea of a Prince serving her as she lounged in his bed - and she tried to keep her eyes on his when he came sauntering back, but they drifted down anyway.

"Like what you see?" he drawled before easing down into the bed and handing her her own cup of water.

"No. Not at all. I'm here against my will, after all," she replied sarcastically with a smile before sipping the cup. "Sorry about the... lip."

The bite was already nearly fully healed, she could see as he took both cups and set them aside, and he gave her a skeptical look. "Why should you be sorry for something I enjoy?"

She shrugged, shifting to her side as he leaned back against his headboard, no parts of them touching as of yet. "I don't know. I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"You flatter yourself to think you could cause me true pain," he mused.

She wondered if his words had more than one meaning, referring to more than just physical pain. If it was a reminder of how little she'd ever actually mean to him, despite his possessive behavior and actions that were beginning to make her fear otherwise. She couldn't decide which would be worse, meaning nothing to him or being loved by him.

Not that it mattered in the end. "Those blisters were impressive," she said absently, watching him slide down from the headboard and move to his side to face her, though the distance between them remained.

He smirked, propped up on his elbow. "I was being merciful. I could have turned him into a rat and had him trampled by your adoring fans."

She rolled her eyes. "He may be a bore, but Dagr is -"

"Don't say his name," Loki quickly hissed, the change in his tone briefly stunning her.

"I -"

"Not in my bed," he added. "Not when you're with me. Don't speak his name."

She nodded, searching his eyes for something that would explain his words and actions but, as always, finding nothing. A moment passed, and he began toying with the ends of her hair as they spilled over her pillow. She watched his fingers idly play with the strands for a moment, then stilled his movements by closing her hand around his wrist. His eyes flickered up to hers, but she kept hers on his hand as she brought her other fingers up to trace the lines on his palm.

"Shall you read my fortune?" he asked with amusement.

She shook her head, smiling slightly at his words. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Have I ever said that you cannot?" he countered.

She shook her head again. "Can anyone learn magic?"

She looked into his eyes earnestly, and he studied her for a moment before he answered. "Yes and no."

"Yes and no?"

"Every person born of Asgardian blood has the capability of performing magic," he said, "as well as those born of some other realms. But not everyone can... harness the energy within themselves to use it."

"Oh," she said, watching his hand turn hers over and copy the treatment she'd given his, running his fingertips along her palm.

"Thor, for example, has neither the patience nor the care to reach deeply enough within himself to learn the most basic functions of magic. My mother tried, briefly, to teach him when we were children, when he became jealous of what I could do, but he got bored quickly and lost interest."

She smiled slightly, very unused to hearing Loki speak of his family to her at all. "He was jealous of you?"

"I've been doing magic since I was only months old," Loki replied. "It was unintentional, of course, but I was born with the natural ability that others have to work to master. Some are simply not suited for it - Thor is one of them."

He seemed to be rather happy with that fact, Aemilia noted. His eyes narrowed slightly and he asked, "Why do you ask me this?"

"I... well, you will probably laugh at me."

"Tell me anyway."

She looked up at him, then back down at his fingers as they traced the blue weave of veins on her inner wrist. "Well... when I was a child, my mother and father took me to a royal parade in the city square. I found it all terribly boring, as any child would, but I behaved myself and waited patiently for it to be over so I could go home and play. Towards the end, I had almost fallen asleep on my father's lap, but then a bright light woke me up. I remember opening my eyes and seeing the most beautiful bursts of colors I'd ever seen lighting up the sky, all flowing directly from the hands of a prince."

Loki's eyes had softened, and Aemilia had to look away to find her voice to continue. "I asked my mother what it was, and she said that it was magic, that the prince was skilled in magic. I asked her if I could learn to be skilled in magic as well, and she told me that it was not appropriate for a girl of noble stock like myself to learn such a thing. I asked her a few more times as I grew up, but she forbade it every time."

"People are scared of what they do not understand," Loki replied. "It's all fine and good when it's parlor tricks, some fireworks here and there, maybe a lighthearted prank or two, but anything more and people begin to fear you. Treat you differently."

"Has that happened to you?"

Loki gave a light shrug. "My mother nurtured what my father would have extinguished. She taught me what I know. I care not if others think me dangerous because I can do more than they could even imagine with just the will of my mind."

"Are you? Dangerous?"

Loki smirked, his fingers trailing to her chin as he remarked, "For you, yes, immeasurably so."

She rolled her eyes with a small smile. "Can you teach me?"

His smirk faltered a little, and she instantly regretted asking the question. She was on the cusp of telling him never mind when he replied, "It is much easier to learn as a child. Learning as an adult, when you've shown no natural ability prior, is... it's not impossible, but it is unlikely."

She nodded quickly. "I understand. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

He fought a smile as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. "That was not a no, Aemilia." Her eyes snapped up to his and widened slightly, and he added, "I can try to help you tap into the energy within you, but if you cannot, there is nothing that I can do. It is not easy, and you will have to have impeccable focus. Do you understand this?"

She nodded quickly, unable to believe that a childhood dream might be within her reach after a lifetime of thinking it was but a mere stupid wish that would never come to fruition. "I... yes, yes, I understand. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he replied. "It is hard work to harness something you've lived with since birth but never noticed. You won't find it the least bit enjoyable, and it will be exhausting. And tedious. And it will be all for nothing if you do not succeed."

She answered without delay, and it made him grin in response. "When do we start?"


	7. Chapter 7

Excitement burst through Aemilia's veins as she left her home early one afternoon, under the guise of meeting her friends in the city for a few hours. She did not take her horse as she would to venture to the city, but stepped down the cobblestone pathway that led to the gate at the property's edge, a small smile lingering on her face as she glanced up at the bright, warm sky overhead. Loki had told her to dress comfortably, so she was wearing one of her simpler, looser dresses, a light coral colored one that felt like nothing as the skirt grazed her ankles while she walked.

It was a short, slightly bouncy walk away from her home, and she didn't really know where she was going. He had simply told her to start heading East on foot after she'd had a full lunch, and that he would take care of the rest. She walked along the path that centuries of carriages and horses had created in the earth beneath her feet and waited patiently, maybe five minutes passing before she heard the sound of hooves clicking up behind her.

She turned and saw a large, gorgeous black horse approaching, carrying a dark hooded figure on its saddle, and she let her stubborn smile spread a little bit. As the horse came closer, she looked around, making sure that no eyes were around to see, and none were - her family's property was relatively secluded, something she was grateful for now as the horse came to a stop beside her.

A flash of green eyes under the black hood was all she saw before a pale hand extended down to her, a silent offering, and she took it without hesitation. Then, dizzyingly quickly and smoothly, she found herself pulled up on the horse and nestled between the rider's legs before the horse trotted off briskly towards the woods.

It was all so very theatric and unnecessary, she thought as they neared the trees, since all Loki would have had to do was tell her where to meet him and she could have easily found her way on her own horse, but he'd insisted on picking her up and being very vague about where they were going today to begin her magic lessons. It would have been thrilling enough just to meet him in the daylight hours, outdoors for once, but then he'd turned it into a highly clandestine sort of thing, and the fact that it was all surrounding magic made it unbelievably exciting.

As soon as they'd slipped into the forest and were cloaked by the trees and their green leaves, Loki dropped his hood and gathered the reins in one of his hands, freeing one to take her waist as he pressed a kiss to her neck. She smiled and held on to the saddle with one hand while she turned towards him, eyes alight as she met his gaze and kissed his lips when he raised his head from her neck.

"So dramatic," she noted as they navigated down a narrow path in the woods. She kept her eyes on him, suddenly wondering if this was the first time she'd seen the Prince this closely in the light of day. He was dressed in black with small accents of dark green on his sleeves and chest, and the sunlight brought a soft warmth to his pale face that she hadn't seen before. Her gaze had travelled to his hair that shone as black and luminous as the feathers of Odin's ravens by the time he spoke.

"My nature does not allow for dullness, as you well know," he replied, hand moving from her waist to her side, then down to her hip and finally her thigh. She smiled, and he smiled lightly in return, watching rays of sunlight flicker through the trees overhead and light up her features. She watched him study her as she had studied him, and she wondered why they'd waited so long to venture out into the sunlight together.

"Dull is a word I would never dare associate with you, my prince," Aemilia replied, reluctantly then tearing her gaze away and fixing it on the path they were traveling. "Do I get to know where we're going?"

"We are going somewhere we will not be seen, bothered, or disturbed while we work," he said. "Are you eager to begin?"

"Yes," she smiled, enthusiasm filling her voice as she leaned back into his touch.

"Should I remind you that today will not be any sort of fun, whether the outcome is successful or not?"

"I know you said it will be difficult and unpleasant," she replied, "but I am so excited to be trying at all - and to have one such as yourself to teach me."

He grinned at her flattery, knowing she meant it sincerely. And she _should_ be excited to have his help - Loki had been turning down apprentices for decades, not caring or having the patience to deal with teaching a student his tricks and secrets, but he actually liked the idea of teaching Aemilia. He thought it might have been a side effect of watching her play an enchantress on stage, since that had been quite the intriguing sight, indeed.

Their trek was not brief, and Aemilia watched as they left the forest and headed up a rocky, uneven hill, Loki's hand rarely leaving her leg even as he navigated the uneasy terrain. The hill led to a small depression on its other side, and they crossed a quietly-flowing brook on their way up another, larger hill. Gravity forced her to lie back fully against him as they ascended slowly, and she didn't mind it at all - every now and then he'd brush his lips across her cheek or along her ear, and a comfortable silence surrounded then until they reached their destination.

It was a clearing on top of the big hill, surrounded by a thin but effective cover of tall trees, and at first, there didn't seem to be anything remarkable about the area. But, as Loki halted his horse and Aemilia scanned the clearing, she noticed craters that littered the ground. Some were substantial and others were small, and then she looked at the trees to find that some of them appeared to have been singed and burned at some point, some more recently than others.

Loki slid off the horse first, then wordlessly held out a hand to help her down. She took his hand and asked, "What's happened here?"

"I did," he smirked as her feet hit the ground. "This is where I go to, shall we say, test new spells."

"Oh," she said, eyes drifting off to the largest crater again and widening slightly - what had he done to cause that?

Then she realized something else about the area - it was completely quiet. There was no chirping of birds or rustling of wildlife, seemingly no sound at all coming from anywhere. Before she could comment, Loki walked past her and said, "Come along."

She did as he said, now unable to ignore the almost eerie silence as she followed him to the middle of the clearing. She stopped when he did, and looked up into his eyes when he asked, "Are you ready to begin?"

She had no idea what "beginning" entailed, but she nodded anyway. "Yes."

"You don't seem as eager as before," he noted with amusement.

"I... no, I am only wondering what exactly you mean by 'begin'."

"Ah," he said, gesturing to the ground in front of him before adding, "Sit." When she eyed the ground as he sank down to a sitting position himself, he raised an eyebrow. "Do not tell me you fear a bit of dirt on your dress."

"No," she shook her head quickly, moving to sit in front of him. "I'm only wondering why you brought me out here rather than taking me to your room to do this."

"Because," he replied, "it is far safer to be in an open space when you are playing with energy that you do not understand."

Aemilia blinked, suddenly wondering if she should be fearful of what was to come. He seemed to sense this and added, "You won't be in any danger while I'm here. But I'd rather not risk the integrity of my chambers, which is why you are here and not there."

That made sense. "All right. So how do we begin?"

He drew a breath, looking at his hands for a moment before looking back up to her. "You remember what I said before, about magic being present in all born of Asgardian blood." She nodded. "It's an energy that you were born with but have never noticed. The key to you being able to harness it is learning to find it within yourself now and distinguish it from the rest of your being."

"Okay," she replied, hoping he would give detailed instructions of how exactly to do that.

He held out his hand to her, and she looked down at his palm as a faint green light swirled around it. "Take my hand."

She did, and immediately she felt a warm, thrumming sensation spread from his hand to hers. It pulsed like a heartbeat, and she stared at their joined hands as he spoke again. "This is what it feels like. You feel this every day, only at a much lower level. It beats with your heart. It's there, though it is faint, and you must find it and grasp it."

He let go, and Aemilia blinked at the loss of contact. "That was... remarkable. Is that what you feel every day, inside of you?"

"I've never known anything different," Loki replied with a slight shrug. "Much like you haven't until now."

"How do I... grasp it?"

"I will help you try," he said, "but first you must close your eyes and allow yourself to relax completely. Focus on the silence, on the peace around you, and let yourself... become a part of that peace."

She stared at him for a moment, wondering if she could even get this part right, but she straightened and folded her hands in her lap before closing her eyes and exhaling. She let her shoulders drop a little bit and told herself to relax, but she could feel Loki's gaze upon her, and only a moment later she cracked open her eyes and smiled. "I cannot relax with you watching me like that."

He smirked and then vanished before her eyes. She didn't know if he was gone or just invisible, and neither was any more comforting than the other, so Aemilia closed her eyes again and decided not to think about it.

She focused on her breathing first, the dull monotony of breathing in and out, in and out, and let her mind empty of all conscious thoughts as she did. She tried to relax as if she were drifting off to sleep, the only sound in her ears belonging to her own breaths, and just as she felt as if she was truly starting to relax, two hands on either side of her head nearly broke her concentration.

"Keep your eyes closed," she heard Loki whisper as his thumbs pressed gently into her temples. Then she gasped at the strangest thing she'd ever felt before, something she could only describe as something brushing against the outer edges of her mind.

It was soft and gentle at first, like the brushing of a feather, as if it were trying to gain her permission to enter. She nearly spoke aloud to demand to know what Loki was doing, but then the sensation switched from a brush to an invasion, and she felt like she was being pulled out of her body and into some other realm of consciousness with the invader.

_Stay calm_, she heard his voice say within her mind, and she almost jumped out of her skin in response, but she simply squeezed her already-closed eyes and then shuddered when he spoke again. _Your heartbeat. Listen to it. Focus on it. Nothing but your heartbeat._

She felt dizzy, almost like she was floating away from herself, and he was gently skimming through her thoughts - how she knew that, she didn't know, but the sensation was unmistakable - but she did as he said and focused all of the energy that she could on her heartbeat.

_Now _feel_ it. Search for what I showed you with my hand_.

She tried. She really did. But all she could feel was the increasingly hard drumming of her heart, and none of the thrumming of magic that she'd felt through his palm.

_It's there, Aemilia._

She believed him. But it must have been far too faint for her to sense, and a wave of discouragement that she couldn't help washed over her. She was too distracted to notice the pause in the other presence in her mind, and with her eyes closed she couldn't see the way Loki's own eyes slowly opened and looked at her as her own disappointment infected him through the proximity of their consciousnesses.

She was stubborn, however, and she did not stop trying, and she didn't let the looming hopelessness she felt stop her from searching out the energy. After all, Loki had said that this would be hard and unpleasant, and she was prepared for this. Somewhat. Ether way, she wasn't about to give up.

Loki literally watched her dismay turn to determination, within the depths of her mind, and he found himself smirking lightly as he closed his eyes once more and delved back in. He had an idea of how to help her, though he had no reason to think it would work, as he'd never done this with anyone before, but it couldn't hurt to try.

The erratic thumps of her heartbeat were beginning to lose all meaning, sounding more and more foreign the more she listened to them, but she kept pressing on. So wrapped up she was in searching within herself for what she sook that she didn't feel the tendrils of Loki's mind slithering about like long, harmless fingers, searching as well and finding what she searched for with utter ease. She only noticed a change when she suddenly felt it, the warm thrumming from his hand earlier, except this time it started in somewhere near her chest, behind her heart, and radiated outward like blood pumping through her veins. It seemed to have burst forth out of nowhere, and her eyes flew open as the warmth consumed her entire body.

Loki's smile was the first thing she saw. He let his hands fall away from her head, and she felt his mind withdraw from hers, but the pulsing energy within her remained strong and steady. She breathed heavily as she asked, "Why did you not do that from the beginning?"

"I did not know that I could," he answered honestly.

"What exactly did you do?"

"I took the magical energy inside of you and amplified it, for lack of a better term," he explained. "It will not feel this way all of the time - it is temporary while you are learning."

That was a relief, because Aemilia felt as if she might burst. "What do I do now?"

"Now that you can feel it," he said, "you must focus wholly upon it, gain a feel for it, and try to move it."

"Move it?"

"Yes. Focus, Aemilia. Focus on the energy."

Still breathless, she nodded and closed her eyes.

What followed were several hours of exhausting trial and error, equally frustrating for both involved. Loki told her to focus the magic to one area of her body, such as her hand, and she tried, but Loki found that detailed instructions on exactly how to do so were difficult when it had always simply been second nature for him. But learning to exert control over magic was a delicate thing, he knew, and really, there was little he could do - this part was largely dependent on Aemilia's own abilities.

She stood, sat, walked, and wandered about the clearing as she worked up a sweat trying to push the magic to her hand rather than let it course throughout her entire body. It was still a shock to feel such a thing within her, and she found it nearly impossible to believe that it had always been there, only at a much lower volume.

Loki stood and watched her, his hands behind his back and green eyes curious as she reached a standstill in the middle of the clearing, her right hand outstretched as she stared stubbornly at it, as if willing it to behave and do as she wished. He noted the furrow of her brow, the droplets of sweat making their way down her temple, and he knew she'd collapse from exhaustion soon. He was shocked that she'd made it as long as she had without a break.

But, just as he stepped forward with the intent of suggesting she take a moment to rest, her eyes suddenly widened and he followed her gaze to her hand, where her skin was glowing. A small smile crossed his lips, and as the faint golden glow grew brighter, she looked up at Loki and smiled widely with pride.

"Good work," Loki said, watching as she dropped her concentration and allowed the glow to fade. "Now you must rest for a bit."

"I'm fine," she shrugged, but when she tried to take a few steps, she swayed on her feet. Loki's sudden grip on her forearm caught her attention.

"You do not understand what your body and mind have endured for the last several hours," Loki said firmly. "You will faint if you continue."

She quickly decided to believe him when she realized how dizzy she suddenly was. Her limbs felt like limp noodles and she was sweating as if she'd been been doing intensive labor for hours, though in a way, she supposed that she had been.

She barely realized that Loki was walking her out of the clearing and down a pathway off of the hill until her legs nearly gave out from under her. "Where are we going? I thought I needed to rest."

"You do," he said, still gripping her arm as he marched her quickly down the path. "Can you continue to walk?"

She nodded. "Yes, I think so. Will it always be this exhausting?"

"No," he shook his head. "I do not believe so. It was a shock to your body to bring your magic to the forefront as I did; but you will quickly adjust."

_Your magic._ Despite her sickeningly light head, Loki's words made Aemilia smile to herself. As exhausted as she was, she couldn't wait to begin really learning magic - she suddenly felt as if she'd been waiting her whole life for this, and maybe, in a way, she had been.

"Why are you helping me learn magic?" Aemilia suddenly asked, looking up at Loki as they began to near level ground once more. She was half-leaning on him now, her limbs growing ever weaker as they continued to walk.

"I believe you asked me to, did you not?" he retorted, and she thought she detected a trace of irritation in his voice.

"Yes, but... I did not think that you would say yes."

She glanced up at him again, even as stars danced behind her eyes, and he gave her an unreadable look before they came to a stop at last. She forced her eyes away and looked out at what lay before them, and even in her mild delirium, realized why Loki had brought her here.

Thin wisps of steam rose and swirled from the surface of what appeared to be one of Asgard's more well-hidden hot springs. It was circular and surrounded by neat piles of large steel-gray and white rocks, and Aemilia's shoulders sagged as she realized relief was near. One dip in there, or any of the other springs that the realm boasted, and her strength would be restored twofold.

He caught her when her knees tried to buckle, and she didn't protest when he made a slightly exasperated noise and swept her up in his arms like she weighed nothing. She let her heavy eyes flutter shut and only opened them when she felt him setting her down upon the edge of the rocks.

"Shall I undress you?" he asked with a smirk, kneeling in front of her and holding her chin up with a lone finger. "I doubt you have the strength to so much as lift your hand at the moment."

Now that she was sitting, she didn't feel quite as faint, but he was right. Still, she did retain her wits despite her current physical and mental state. "You first."

She watched his smirk grow, then held on to the rocks beneath her to remain steady as he rose to his feet and took a few steps back. He could have waved a hand and vanished every layer he wore before she could blink, but instead he began the old-fashioned way, dropping his jacket - carefully, so as to not damage or soil it - to a pile of rocks near his feet. He kept his gaze on her, though her own eyes were quite distracted watching his hands move about his several other upper layers with ease. It was dizzying to her already-spinning head to watch, and it occurred to her that she'd never had the pleasure of undressing him herself - and that she needed to pay attention to what his fingers were doing so that she would know how to in the future. But she lost track of the number of buckles, buttons and zippers that he did away before his top half was bare to her, and by then she wasn't thinking much about the mostly-black pile of leather growing on the rocks anyway, but of how spectacular he looked standing half-naked in the sun.

Her hand then slipped on the rock beneath her, and she almost went tumbling head-first into the spring, but Loki's hand caught her arm with shocking speed and righted her before she could fall.

"You can finish watching from the spring, if you'd like," he grinned, reaching behind her with the hand not supporting her to unlace the back of her dress. "Otherwise you will surely faint at the sight of the rest of me."

She scoffed lightly but allowed him to undress her, raising her arms when he tugged her dress up and over her head. When his hands reached the hem of her slip, she quickly began to protest. "If someone were to see -"

"Nobody will see, I assure you," he said firmly. "I've been taking precautions to keep this place private for a very long time."

"Am I to believe that I am the first woman that you've brought here?" Aemilia asked, half-mocking and half-sincere. She found such a thing hard to believe.

"Your belief either way does not negate the truth," Loki replied evenly, again pulling at her slip and this time removing it when she didn't fight him. His eyes swept unashamedly over her newly exposed flesh as one of his hands moved down to her sandal, removing them with two tugs of his fingers. "Now let's get you feeling better, shall we?"

He spun her around on the rocks, and her toes grazed the water for a moment before he gently eased her down into the spring. The water was warm, beautifully so, not so hot to overheat her but enough to instantly send a wave of relaxation through her body as she sunk down to her chin.

As soon as she was submerged, the water's healing and restoring properties immediately went to work. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the bank, letting her limbs float as her energy was renewed and her mind cleared and steadied. She could feel magic swelling within her again, the warm pulsing in time with her heartbeat that made her feel so alive and vital that she wondered how she'd made it three centuries without feeling this way. It was enough to make her envy Loki, having this coursing through his body since birth and thus not even realizing how remarkable it truly was.

She dunked her head down into the water and then rose back up, pushing her dark hair back and out of her face as she looked around but found no sign of Loki. She'd been too distracted by the healing spring to remember to finish watching him undress, which was disappointing, and now she'd lost track of him.

The spring was still working on her even now that she felt restored to her usual health, making her blood pump and flow through her veins with such a renewed vigor that it made her heart feel as if it may burst, but it was not at all an unpleasant feeling. Her vision was sharper, her senses stronger, and when combined with the magic now flooding her from within, she felt amazing.

She held up her hand and easily pushed her magic to her fingertips, something that had seemed so difficult just twenty minutes ago now seeming rather easy. She smiled and pushed it back and forth between her hands, then let it slide up her arms and chased it down to her toes. Though she had no idea how to actually use the energy yet, just being able to manipulate its movement like this left her feeling exhilarated, and a joyous laugh left her lips just as something yanked on her foot underwater.

It startled her, but she knew better than to be fearful - instead, she kicked her foot out and caught something that felt a lot like a hard chest before her ankle was seized and gently bitten. She laughed again, still smiling when Loki sprung up a second later, looking every bit as good as she felt.

He floated just a few inches in front of her, jerking his head back to flip his wet hair out of his eyes, and as Aemilia took in his appearance - green eyes full of mirth, droplets of crystal clear water running down sharp cheekbones and lingering on his faintly grinning lips, just begging her to kiss them off - she became aware just how hard her blood was really pumping. His pale face was tinged with just a bit of color now, and she could almost feel the energy rolling off of him like waves.

"Feeling better?" he inquired, steam rising around them as she leaned back against the spring's edge once more, letting herself float and her feet graze his sides.

"I feel marvelous," she admitted, not surprised when his hands found her ankles and then slid to her knees as he moved in close, his tongue licking up stray drops of water from the base of her neck as she closed her eyes and enjoyed how he felt against her.

"You _look_ marvelous," he purred, his hands now on her waist as he pinned her against the bank with his weight. Just the sensation of having him against her nearly made her gasp - everything was so heightened and warm and sensitive, and he hadn't even kissed her yet.

But, there was still an unanswered question lingering between them, and she felt just courageous enough to press him about it. She waited until he moved in to kiss her, then asked before his lips touched hers, "Why are you teaching me, _really_?"

Irritation flashed briefly in his eyes before he masked it with false innocence. "Why, I suppose it is out of the kindness of my heart that I've agreed to teach you magic, my dear. Now hold your tongue and kiss me."

She smiled and dodged his kiss again, this time by turning her face at the last minute, forcing him to kiss her cheek. "Tell me the real reason and perhaps I will."

He growled as his lips trailed to her ear, trying not to notice how her hips moved teasingly against his. Sometimes he thought he'd taught her certain things a bit too well, like the art of teasing. "This is not how one shows gratitude to their teacher, little one."

"You are correct - I've never found myself in this position with any teacher before," Aemilia replied playfully, all of the energy swirling within her spurring her on as she continued to tease him with the slight rocking of her hips and light scratches of her nails down the back of his shoulders. "But I've also never had a teacher browse through my thoughts without permission."

He looked surprised for a moment before he cracked another grin. "Ah, you sensed that."

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

He gave a light shrug and turned his eyes up skyward in false thoughtfulness. "The mind is an extraordinary thing. Our thoughts linger even when we aren't thinking on them, like pages of an open book waiting to be turned."

"How poetically vague," she smiled.

"Yes, unlike your very vivid thoughts," he said, devilish amusement coloring his tone as he smirked. "I've been curious what occupies your mind on the rare nights you don't share my bed, which thoughts arouse you the most in my absence. I confess myself surprised."

"You truly have no shame violating my privacy as it suits you," she said, not having to feign the edge in her voice.

"Just as you have no shame imagining yourself open-mouthed and on your knees for me when I am not there to sate you," he grinned, savoring the slight color that filled her cheeks at his words. "You could imagine my mouth on you, all of the pleasures that I lavish so generously upon you, and yet you choose to think of _that_."

"And what do you think of?" she retorted, refusing to shrink away like some shy girl from his words. "A good, hard slap to your face as I rip out your hair from your head?"

"Perhaps," he shrugged. "Or perhaps how you would look leather-choked and cuffed to my bed. Maybe even how I would in yours." Her mouth fell slightly open at his words, and it only made his grin widen. "But such things are expected of a man like me - your thoughts, however, would shock those who think they know you. What would your dear mother say?"

"If my mother so much as knew where I was right now, and with whom, I would be disowned and banished," she replied sharply, "while you would suffer no consequences because you, after all, are merely a young prince behaving as young princes do."

His smirk didn't falter. "And yet, here you are. Now, shall we leave this spring so that you may set that mouth of yours to its favorite task?"

She pretended to think it over, then slipped through his arms and floated away from him, towards the opposite side of the spring. "I'm rather enjoying this water, so I'm afraid my answer is no. Unless you decide to finally answer me. Perhaps then I could be persuaded."

Aemilia floated carelessly on her back, hoping against hope that he would pounce on her soon and end her playful resistance, since her pride wouldn't let her do it herself. She closed her eyes but continued to feel his gaze on her, sensed it becoming more predatory, and she could have cried in relief when she felt arms enclose around her waist from behind and yank her backwards against Loki's body. The sharp jabbing against the back of her thigh was jarring but not unexpected, and he yanked her hair and brought his lips to her ear before whispering in a silken rasp, "Enough games, girl."

He wrenched her face to his and kissed her hard, though she managed to chuckle in between his rough caresses, "Ironic, coming from a _trickster_."

He then spun her around, restoring them to their previous position from before she'd floated away from him, and she smiled up at him before pulling in him for a bruising kiss of her own. She was bursting with energy, and she needed an outlet, needed him, and she couldn't hold back any longer. Any retort he may have been about to throw at her was forgotten in the hard collision of lips as she locked her legs around his hips, pulling him fully against her and making her bounce back against the rocky bank. It hurt, but she barely noticed.

He was just as desperate, it seemed, as he held her close with one arm and braced the other on the bank behind her head, then thrust swiftly inside of her without breaking their kiss. She let out a choked moan into his mouth, one hand clutching his soaked hair and the other wrapped around his neck for support as he drove her forcefully against the hard rocks, and yet she still felt as if it wasn't quite enough.

As if he sensed this, he grasped a handful of her hair in his hand and broke the kiss as he jerked her head back and swooped down on her neck, biting her hard enough to leave a mark and make her let out a strangled cry as he pushed even harder. The water felt hotter, the steam thicker, and it soon became overwhelming, unlike what Aemilia had felt before with him because now, there was so much energy and life flowing and crashing within her that she felt his every touch, every kiss, every harsh thrust more than she had before, and she knew now beyond a doubt that she could never, ever, truly have enough of the dark prince in her arms.

A hand on her throat snapped her out of her revelry, as well as a voice that commanded in a whisper to her ear, "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, saw the nearly frightening hunger in Loki's eyes and wondered if it was reflected in her own, then kissed him as hard as her swollen lips would allow. The hand on her throat drifted down to her breast, sliding in and out of the water as he squeezed it and mercilessly teased her hardened peak with his thumb as he gasped between kisses, "Scream for me."

Her insides simultaneously melted and flipped as his words reached her brain, and she looked at him in alarm just before he spoke again. "None will hear but me, I promise." He shifted her just slightly back further, allowing him to drive up harder and faster, and she could only hold on to him and let him do as he wished - which was exactly what she wanted.

His voice melted against her ear again, demanding and desperate as it shook with his fading restraint. "Now, Aemilia. _Scream_, scream my name."

It all came together then, in a blinding explosion behind her eyes that left her utterly unaware if she had complied with his wishes or not, because it was too powerful and too consuming to be aware of what she was doing with her voice. Her nails made him bleed and her fingers nearly ripped out his hair as she fell apart, and the only thing she registered beyond her own otherworldly ecstasy was the sound of Loki gasping against her open mouth, losing himself as deeply as she had lost herself. And for one long, shared moment, they were both lost.

When she came back to herself, Aemilia opened her eyes and felt the tickle of heavy, lazy breaths on her neck, as well as limp arms loosely clutching her as they simply floated. She lifted her hand from the back of his head and found a small handful of his black hairs broken off and tangled around her fingers, and on her other hand that lay on his back, her fingertips were smudged with the blood that her nails had drawn.

A tiny sense of guilt had very nearly washed over her when Loki's fatigued voice against her neck startled her. "Don't you dare apologize, silly girl."

She rolled her eyes as he raised his head and kissed her jaw, then her lips, before drawing away to look at her with slightly hazy green eyes. "It's better when it hurts, isn't it?"

She probably wouldn't agree when her back and thighs were aching for the next few days, but for now she merely shook her head with a small smile and kissed him.

They stole a few more moments in the spring until the heat started to get to them, and Loki emerged first, sitting on the edge of the spring as he helped Aemilia out as well. The cooler daytime air was a relief to her heated skin, though her relief turned to slight confusion when Loki shifted and laid down on his back on the ground next to the spring.

The rays of the sun were falling upon him like some sort of dream, and Aemilia sat perfectly still as her eyes drank him in. He was without inhibition, still wet and thoroughly relaxed as he lounged in the grass, and she had no idea how long she'd been gawking at his form before one green eye cracked open and fixed upon her. "Come lie next to me."

So this was how he intended for them to dry themselves, she thought as she lowered herself down at his side. He surely could have waved a hand and had them both not only dry but dressed as well, but all things considered, this wasn't so bad.

"You're sure that nobody will... venture here, or ride through here?"

Loki turned his head towards Aemilia and gave her a tired but amused look. "Do you truly think I would risk allowing another to see you like this? To see what is only meant for my eyes?"

Whenever he said something like that, she would feel a ripple of strange warmth but also of unease. He spoke of her as if he had a true, legal claim upon her, and yet she had yet to see him show any motivation to legitimately end her looming engagement. If he really felt that way, truly believed that she should belong to him and him alone, he could have begun courting her himself months ago, when all of this began. But he didn't, and she wouldn't dare be the first to bring it up as a possibility, for fear that he'd laugh so hard at her foolishness that she would never forgive herself for opening her mouth.

So, she did what she always did when he spoke possessively of her, and she simply ignored his words, turning her eyes to the sky as his own drifted from her face down to the rest of her. A twinge of discomfort poked at her, as she found this to be more intimate than sharing a bed in a dimly lit room, but it passed when she glanced at Loki and found his gaze to be more than appreciative as it swept over her.

She blinked slowly when soft fingertips reached out and slowly wiped away a few lingering drops of water above her belly button, and it suddenly occurred to her how only a few months ago, if someone had told her that she would have been comfortable enough with a Prince of Asgard to lie bare in the sun with him after having had him in a hot spring, she would have laughed for days. Now, however, there was nothing to laugh about, because reality loomed ever closer, numbering the days that she had left to live like this.

The frightening thing was how terribly her chest ached to think of this coming to an end. To not see the maddening smirk on Loki's face every day, to not feel his demanding, rough touches, to lose the decadence of his kisses on her lips. With each day that passed, it became more and more unthinkable, and yet she still did not regret the affair.

She supposed it was better to have had him for a little while than to never have had him at all.

"What has you so quiet, darling?"

He was angled slightly more towards her now, his damp black hair falling into his eyes and pale body glistening tantalizingly in the sun as his hand wandered along her skin, to her stomach, her hip, her leg, her side, the space between her breasts, and now her chin as he tilted it towards him.

She shrugged, giving him a small smile. "You are beautiful, Loki."

She expected him to smirk, chuckle, or proclaim how very obvious her words were. He did none of those things. Instead, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she thought that he looked momentarily slightly confused before his expression shifted to unreadable.

A moment passed, and then he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a tender kiss. She squirmed inside at the contact, but in a different, much more frightening way than usual. When he did not release her hand, but instead let his lips brush her skin again, this time over her knuckles as his eyes fluttered shut, she felt her eyes sting.

Then his eyes opened, and he gripped her wrist and pulled her close as he shifted to his side. She met his eyes, the still-unreadable depths of emerald green, as he released her wrist to slide his fingers through her hair. They lay a breath apart, facing one another, not saying a word, only touching. She traced his cheekbone with her fingers, ran her thumb over lips that parted a little under her touch, and through it all, the discomfort inside did not ebb.

When his eyes drifted to her lips and he began to lean in slowly, she met him in the middle without hesitation. They kissed just to kiss, just to feel, just to explore while they still could, and she thought it was beautifully, wonderfully cruel.

Her realization from a bit earlier was confirmed. She truly would never, ever get enough of him. There was nobody else who had ever made her want to lay in his arms and simply be kissed slowly, thoroughly and sweetly until the daylight faded to darkness. There was nobody else who could inspire such misery and rapture within herself, nobody who could make her feel mad and beautiful and safe and dangerous all at the same time. There was, simply, nobody else.

And she feared there never would be.

* * *

Never in his life had a woman looked at him the way that Aemilia was now.

Since he had reached adulthood many, many years ago, he had learned to catalog the several ways that women tended to look at him. There were the star-struck stares of younger girls who dreamed of marrying a prince and becoming his princess, naming their future children in their minds as he walked past them in the city streets. They ogled he and Thor with equal opportunity, so he paid them no mind. Then there was the look of desire, of seduction, that more courageous women wore, and he was picky about those he chose to entertain. But, if a woman was not staring starry-eyed at him nor imagining what lay under all the leather and metal that he wore, then she usually was looking at him with either fear or benign, sometimes judgmental, curiosity; the former because they feared he would randomly decide to turn them into a toad, and the latter because they wondered if he truly _could_ turn people into toads. There were also those who dared to look upon him in ridicule when they didn't think he was looking, and they would whisper and jest with their friends about the supposed femininity that his delicate features and affinity for sorcery apparently belied, and those women he _would_ turn into toads, if he could be bothered. There really was very little in between, and he had grown to expect nothing else.

He used to have Aemilia filed under the "desire" category, and to be sure, she looked at him with more hunger and want than he had seen from another in centuries. But now he was seeing things in her eyes that he couldn't define or explain.

When she told him he was beautiful, his first gut-reaction was to take it as ridicule, as a jest at his expense, like the ones he'd been listening to since he was a child trying not to wither under Thor's hulking shadow, but he quickly realized that she had been serious. There had been no malice, not a trace of insincerity or sarcasm behind her words, no agenda beyond merely expressing what she felt in that moment.

Her words alone would have been enough to shake him, but with the added mystery of her eyes as they sparkled up at him, he found himself lost for a few moments.

Her gaze was tender, sweet, thoughtful and even soft as she smiled at him. He wished that he could read her thoughts again, that he could just slip into her mind without her noticing and see firsthand what was causing this. It made him feel... strange, out of his element, unprepared. He'd felt this way once before, when she had kissed him tenderly after torturing him at the banquet, and he did not enjoy feeling like this.

He made sure his own expression was unreadable, utterly blank as he searched her eyes for the meaning that he knew must lay somewhere within them. It took him some time to realize that the answer that he was looking for was deceptively, painfully simple.

She was looking at him with affection.

He'd kissed her hand, then, because he had no idea what to do with his revelation. He felt uneasy, confused, and wholly unsure if he should say something cruel to wipe the warmth off her face before it burned him, or if he should say something sweet that would feed it, allow it to grow and engulf him. In the end, he chose to close his eyes to escape it, even as he contradicted his instinct to pull away with the continued brushing of his lips against her hand.

It was when he allowed his eyes to open that he felt his already-pathetic resolve crumble. A sadness had overtaken her eyes, a shadow that was subtle but clear to him, and he felt an unexpected pang within. Again he wished that he could slip inside of her thoughts, see what had made her gaze turn that way, because he couldn't - or maybe more accurately, wouldn't - ask her.

Her soft touches to his cheek and his lips were as foreign as her words and gaze had been. Had he ever been touched so softly, so reverently, like he was a wonder to behold, a privilege to touch? And yet, with each passing moment, her eyes grew sadder.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he kissed her. He kissed her the way that he knew she liked it the most, the way that he could usually never bear to. It made him ache to kiss her so slowly and intimately, but for some strange reason that he could not and would not identify, he needed it then just as badly she did.

It was like drowning, in the most miserably thrilling way imaginable.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, adrift in confusing need and dangerously soft touches, but he did know what jarred him out of it. It was her hand, small and gentle as it moved through his hair to his neck, then down, not resting until it had reached his heart. There her hand stilled, feeling the erratic thumping of his heartbeat through his skin, and suddenly, he could no longer bear it.

His hand enclosed gently around her wrist as he wrenched his lips away from hers. She looked up at him as he pushed her hand away, placing it at her side before letting go. Confusion flickered across her face, but he had to put distance between them before he did something stupid. Like wrap her up in his arms and kiss her until she fell asleep.

He rolled away from her and rose to his feet, not casting any glances back at her as he dressed in silence. He only looked at her when he gathered up her clothes and handed them to her, and she searched his once again unreadable eyes as she took the dress from his hands. He looked away quickly, then began marching back towards the hill once she was dressed.

She followed him in silence, and he tried to ignore how his hands continued to tremble at his sides.

* * *

His mood swings were going to be the death of her.

The ride home was quiet, and seemed to pass by faster than the ride there. Loki didn't say a word the entire time but he wasn't wholly distant, as he would periodically nuzzle her hair or drop a kiss to her shoulder as they rode through the woods. He kept one arm around her waist and it felt possessive. It also felt good.

He seemed to be a constant, mildly chaotic mixture of push and pull, and she was certain that even he had no idea what he truly wanted from her. Everything he said and did contradictory, and it left her in a strange limbo that she wasn't sure how to navigate.

Logic would tell her to forbid the intimacy they had flirted with, to not dare seek it for both of their sakes. Something else that was steadily growing within told her to take what she could get while she still could.

He dropped her off in the same spot that he had picked her up from, with a parting kiss and a whisper in her ear. "I'll come for you tonight."

She nodded and gave him a tight smile as she slid down from the horse. He was gone in the next moment, and though his absence left her feeling an immediate hollowness within, she also felt so full that she feared she would implode.

The magic rushing within her had calmed down some, as Loki had told her it would, and she shifted it around her body as she walked home. She still wasn't used to it, by any means, but it felt good, and it was a distraction from the confusion swirling around her head.

When she walked inside of her house, she walked unknowingly into a bustling boon of activity. Servants were darting to and fro, and in the middle of the buzzing was her mother, who was barking commands and gave Aemilia a sad smile when she walked into the sitting room.

"Oh, dear, there you are!" Ayre said, drawing Aemilia into a hug. "We've just received word today, your great uncle has died."

"Oh," Aemilia said with furrowed brows. Her sole great uncle had been exceptionally old, and his death did not come as a surprise. She had also only seen him maybe four times in her life and shared a few sentences with him two of those times, so she felt no real grief for his loss.

"We will be departing tomorrow, for your grandmother's house," Ayre said. "I've already had two bags packed for you, but you may want to go and make sure you don't need anything else."

Aemilia nodded and trudged off towards her room, knowing that this meant she would be away for two weeks. Two weeks of mourning and celebrating a man she didn't know, surrounded by family and forced to spend precious time away from the person she really wanted to spend her days with.

"Oh, and darling, Dagr will be coming as well - he offered to keep you company during this difficult time," Ayre called after her daughter with a smile.

_Fantastic_. Aemilia didn't say another word as she continued on to her room.

She walked into her bedroom to find it perfectly clean and most of her loose belongings packed and gone, as she expected. It took her a moment before she noticed the enormous black leather-bound book sitting on the exact middle of her bed.

She didn't have a book that looked like that, so she looked at it curiously as she walked to her bed and reached out to pick it up. It was old and worn, and if there had been a title on the cover once, it was long gone by now. She opened it, carefully, and sank down on the edge of the bed as she realized what it was.

It was a book of magic, both basic and more advanced, and it was literally covered in tiny but almost calligraphic handwritten notes on each available edge of every page. She'd never seen Loki's handwriting before, but she didn't need to to know that it belonged to him.

She smiled and crawled up into her bed, her souring mood now temporarily gone as she flipped to the first page and lost herself in Loki's gift. She didn't look up from the book once until hours had passed and he appeared in front of her, hand outstretched to her and ready to take her away.

* * *

She didn't have the heart to tell him that she would be gone for two weeks until he'd already had her twice, once on his desk and once in his bed. She didn't know how he would react, if he would merely shrug and send her away or if he would be irrationally furious, so she waited until the last moment possible to open her mouth.

He was half-lying on top of her, half-sprawled at her side, his head on her breast as his breaths came evenly and slowly, telling her that he was tired now and would be taking her back to her room soon. They still had yet to ever fall asleep together, and at this point, Aemilia thought it would simply never happen.

She feathered her fingers through his hair as she finally spoke. "Thank you for the book."

She felt his lashes flutter against her chest as he blinked his eyes a few times. "It will teach you what I do not have the patience to. I'll test you as you learn. And do heed my notes."

She nodded, biting her bottom lip as his fingers toyed absently with the breast that he wasn't using as a pillow. She decided to just blurt it out.

"My great-uncle is dead. I leave tomorrow for my grandmother's home. I'll be away for two weeks."

His fingers stilled instantly, but she kept hers moving through his hair as she awaited his reaction. She waited for what felt like an eternity, and when he finally spoke, what he said threw her.

"Sing for me."

This time, her fingers faltered while his resumed their idle touches. Where had _that_ come from? Where they having the same conversation?

"Please."

He said it more like a command than a plea, but she couldn't deny him, even though his request was the absolute last thing she expected to come out of his mouth. She was starting to think that denying him simply wasn't in her nature.

"I... what do you want me to sing?"

He paused only briefly before answering, "Anything."

She quickly shuffled through some songs in her mind, all of Asgard, all songs that he surely would have heard a thousand times by many different singers in his lifetime. She didn't want to sing something so common, and only so many kinds of songs felt appropriate to sing in the dim light of a Prince's bedroom as he lay sleepily in your arms.

Her thoughts shifted to the music of other realms, eventually landing on that of Midgard, and after a moment, she slid her fingers through his hair once more as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

* * *

_Hush now baby don't you cry_

_Rest your wings my butterfly_

_Peace will come to you in time_

_And I will sing this lullaby_

He didn't recognize the words, but he recognized her voice as it reached out to him like the soft fingers in his hair, washing over him as he closed his eyes and lost himself within it. The vibration of her voice through her skin against his was more soothing than he could have imagined it would be, and her _voice_ - it was different from what he had heard before, more raw, less perfectly controlled, simply and purely _her_.

Her voice was full of sorcery. It _had_ to be.

_Know though I must leave, my child_

_That I would stay here by your side_

_And if you wake before I'm gone_

_Remember this sweet lullaby_

The now-familiar ache in his chest was returning, ebbing and flowing with each note and each word of this song that was meant for a child. His eyes opened slowly as it brought back memories, pleasant ones of when Frigga had sang to him when he was small. Then, as her voice reached a few higher notes, he let his eyes close once more.

_And all love through darkness_

_Don't you ever stop believing_

_With love forlorn_

_With love you'll find your way_

_My love_

He could believe so easily in that moment, so lost he was in her, that the words were truly meant for him. How strange it would be to hear speak the words _my love_ and mean it for him.

He opened his eyes.

_The world has turned the day to dark_

_I leave this night with heavy heart_

_When I return to dry your eyes_

_I will sing this lullaby_

_Yes I will sing this lullaby_

As her final note faded, so did his pretense of caring little that she would be away for the next few weeks. He wanted to stamp his foot like a child and demand that she stay, throw a fit that would accomplish nothing but make him look foolish, but instead, he raised his head from her chest and kissed her.

"Beautiful... I could listen to you sing for hours," he murmured against her lips, unsure of why he was telling her such a thing. It was true, but it did him no favors to let her know.

"Thank you," she said quietly with a smile, and he swooped down for another kiss.

After a moment, he drew away again, but only by a few inches. "Where is your grandmother's home?"

He didn't miss her hesitation to answer. "It's... in the south, but -"

"But?" he repeated, one brow raised.

"... But, I won't have a room to myself there. My entire extended family will be there and I will be sharing a room with my cousins. If you... visited me, someone would notice my absence. And D-" she quickly caught herself, remembering Loki's admonishment to not say her intended's name in his bed, "_he_ will be there as well."

He tried not to let his irritation show, but his jaw clenched anyway, both at the mention of _him_ and the fact that she was forbidding him to steal her away at any point in the next two weeks. He didn't like that she could see how her absence would affect him, so he did what he did best, and put a cold smile on his face and lied. "That is not why I asked, silly girl. Do you really think that two weeks without your company will wound me so?"

Hurt flashed through her eyes for a split second, and he found that his lie had left a bitter taste on his tongue, though it could not compare to the disgust he suddenly felt for himself.

"We've not spent a night apart for weeks," she said, not looking him in the eye as she spoke. "Forgive me for presuming that time apart would displease you."

"I shall endeavor to survive until we are reunited." He couldn't seem to stop himself. The words left his mouth as a scoff, as little more than ridicule, and the woman beneath him stared at him in confusion.

He clenched his jaw and rolled off of her, fearful of what would come slithering out of his mouth next if he didn't put space between them. He didn't expect what she said next.

"I truly do not understand you," she said quietly, tugging his sheet up to cover herself now that he was no longer laying on her. "You speak and act in such contradictory ways... I'm unsure of what you want from me."

He chuckled utterly without humor, and lied some more. "What I want has not changed since first you fell into my bed, Aemilia. I desire your ruin. I want you to walk amongst your kin and your idiotic intended over the next two weeks and pretend that you don't bear the marks of my teeth under your dress or carry the shame of your own lust in your mind. I want you to -"

"Sing to you? Learn magic from you? Hold you and kiss you as a wife would her husband, night after night, when we both expected you to tire of me long ago?"

Loki's mouth hung open, suspended in mid-sentence after she had interrupted him. She had actually interrupted him?

"I don't believe you, Loki," she said, and he could hear the trembling beneath her voice. "I don't believe that you know what you want, not for a second. I only hope that you can figure out before it doesn't matter one way or the other."

To his shock, he found that he had nothing to say in return. He watched her as she left his bed and dressed, silently took the robe that she handed to him and shrugged it over his shoulders without so much as blinking. She held out her hand to him when he stood, and he grasped it, then vanished them to her room, as he did every night.

As soon as their feet touched her bedroom floor, she grabbed him and kissed him. His arms hung useless at his sides, his eyes not even closing fully as she poured herself into the kiss.

Nothing made sense. His words had hurt her, and yet she seemed to have seen through them, and had also called him out on them. Now she was kissing him, and it felt like a plea, but he didn't know if it was one he could answer.

He needed time to think. Perhaps it was a good thing that she would be gone for the next two weeks.

Their gazes met as she finally pulled away, and Loki found that he still had nothing to say. He managed one muttered goodbye before dissolving before her eyes.

Left alone in her room, Aemilia shook her head and closed her eyes in frustration. Just as she knew she'd never stop desiring Loki, she was quite sure that she would never truly understand him, either.

**A/N: it be getting angsty up in here :) The song used here was yet another amazing contribution from the mind of midnightwings96, "Lullaby" by Josh Groban, which I'd never heard before in my life and instantly fell in love with when she suggested it for this chapter. My usual big huge heartfelt thank you to everyone who reviewed/faved/alerted, thank you so much for reading and helping keep the muse going :D I'd send everyone cookies, but instead, I'll just keep giving weekly doses of Loki smut :D it's an okay trade, right? :p**


	8. Chapter 8

Sitting in the well-manicured gardens belonging to her grandmother far south of the city of Asgard, Aemilia watched as a butterfly fluttered near her knee. The moonlight was bright and full tonight, and as she focused on the little insect's wings, she saw flashes of black and gold throughout them as they propelled its small body through the air. It reminded her of a certain fly and a certain owl that had once shadowed her, a few months ago, and she squinted slightly, trying to find a trace of green among the colors.

If she looked hard enough, she thought, maybe she'd see it. And if she saw it, maybe it meant that he was here, despite how she had forbidden it, and the threat of a thrill surfaced just before it was squashed.

"You look ravishing tonight, my lady."

As if spooked by Dagr's voice, the butterfly hurriedly flew away, flashing a bright bit orange amongst its black and gold wings as it did. The colors were just as wrong as her companion was.

It wasn't the poor dolt's fault, not really. In fact, had she been the typical Asgardian maiden, she was quite sure that she would have been quite pleased with her intended. A palace guard with all of the looks and the strength ideal of an Aesir man, a good family and good money - what more could she ask for?

But, as fate would have it, she was regretfully atypical, and Dagr was simply wrong for her, in every way. He had been pleasant enough over the last week, and her immediate as well as extended family was quite taken with him, but this made no difference to her. Their conversations were still awkward, nothing about him put her at ease, and every time he touched her - nothing above the brush of his hand on hers or a friendly embrace now and again - she felt nearly as if she were betraying her true lover. It made no sense and she full well knew it - after all, shouldn't she feel guilty for barely participating in this courtship while repeatedly allowing herself to be bedded by a Prince?

Yet even now, as she looked into Dagr's eyes as he sat next to her on this lovely night, she could only wonder what it would be like if it were Loki in his place. She would look up and see a cocky smirk instead of a nervous smile, raven-hued hair instead of sandy blonde, mischievous green eyes rather than standardly pleasant blue. They may or may not converse - if they did, it would be easy, without a trace of awkwardness, far more comfortable than it should be. If they did not, it would surely be a matter of minutes until one of them ended up on their knees in front of the other, and with the way the week had gone so far, she figured it would probably be her.

Unknowingly she bit her lip as the passing thought faded, then froze in mild horror as she hoped he didn't think she'd done it in response to his compliment.

"May I be candid?" he then said suddenly, looking uneasy as he did.

"Yes, of course," she replied quickly.

"Have I... behaved in a manner that displeases you? Offended you? Caused you discomfort in my presence?"

"No," she answered, somewhat honestly. To be truthful, he had yet to do anything she found to be truly vile or repulsive - she just rarely thought anything of him at all. He was nearly a non-entity in her mind, albeit a persistent one. "Of course not - why do you ask?"

"My lady, I am no scholar, but I am also no fool," he said, somewhat somberly. "I know that you do not like me. You shrink from me, you try your hardest to keep away from me, and you no doubt wish that I had not come here to support your family in their time of mourning. What I do not know is why."

She stared at him, words failing her as a slight sense of guilt poked from within. He looked like a wounded pup, confused and just a bit stupid as he awaited an answer.

"Do you desire another?"

Loki was right about one thing - she was not a good liar, and she never had been. Her silence was all the answer he needed.

"I understand. I do," he said as she looked away, towards her feet, anywhere but him. "And I am sorry. But whomever he may be, this man who you wish was in my place... clearly he has no intention of giving you what you wish, otherwise I would be dueling him for your hand."

"But -"

"Please, let me speak," Dagr said, and Aemilia snapped her mouth shut and complied. "My lady, _I_ am here. _I_ am fighting for your attention. _I_ am offering you all I have, all that I shall ever have, because you... bewilder me. You make me feel like a bumbling, idiotic little child with all the charm of dying bilgesnipe, and yet, it only makes me desire you more. I wish only to have the chance to prove to you that this is no mere arranged marriage for me. If given the chance, I shall love you wholly and faithfully until my dying breath."

She stared at him blankly, suppressing her urge to ask him exactly how he could feel so strongly about her when he did not really know her. But did she know Loki any better? Perhaps not, and that didn't stop her from feeling as she did for him.

"Am I so disagreeable in your eyes, my lady?" Dagr asked in a soft voice. "Or am I simply not... this other man that you desire? Is that my only fault?"

She sighed, having run out of time to remain silent. She began with a lie. "There is no other man, Dagr. And there are many reasons why I am wary."

"Please, tell me," he said, relieved that she was at least speaking now.

"I am not ready to give up my life, my freedom," she said, looking up in his eyes and willing him to understand. "As soon as we are married I will be expected to give up who I am to serve you, and children when they come. You may as well take the very breath from my lungs and lock it out of my reach to take the theater away from me. My mother adores society, adores being a noble and throwing grand parties and spreading gossip and everything else frivolous - I do not. And yet I will become her clone once the deed is done."

"If that is not what you want, then I will not force it upon you," Dagr said, and for one foolish moment, she thought he meant he referred to their entire engagement. She should be so lucky. "You can keep singing. I don't want to make you unhappy. Children can be delayed, we needn't rush."

"You say that you won't force anything on me but the very nature of this courtship is one of force," Aemilia said. "If it were entirely up to me, I would not marry anyone. So if you truly wish to have a chance at winning my affection, stop courting me and leave me be. Perhaps then I would believe your words to be genuine."

Dagr looked away, frustrated. She didn't blame him, since after all, he was only a product of his environment. She wondered why it couldn't be so simple for her, being a product of the same environment. She couldn't think of a single thing that had ever happened to shape her into such an apparently unconventional citizen. Maybe she had just been born strange.

"You will see, when we are married," he said eventually, getting to his feet as she watched him stand. "I will let you do as you please. Your happiness will be my priority. I will not shackle you to society. Nothing will change your day to day life as it is now. And when you see this, when you see how truly I mean every word that I am saying - perhaps then, I shall win your heart."

She stared bleakly after him as he walked away, leaving those words to linger over her head like a boulder hanging by a thread, ready to snap at any moment and crush whatever semblance of a future she had. He had missed the point entirely - she didn't want to be _allowed_ to continue to sing, _allowed_ to pursue her interests. More than three centuries of being ordered about by her mother had been quite enough, so was it truly so much to ask for to not spend the rest of her life being _allowed_ by a husband?

But he did not get it, and nothing was going to change. He would be proposing soon, she knew, and then it would all be over. What could she do?

She tried imagine what married life would be like, if Dagr kept to his word. Objectively speaking, it wouldn't be the worst fate imaginable, not by a longshot. He didn't seem to be cruel, and she doubted that he was abusive. He was a bit dim, yes, but that was not rare among young Asgardian males. He was not physically revolting. His offer of allowing her to pursue her interests as she saw fit without his interference was one that she knew she wouldn't find elsewhere, especially when it came to delaying children. So why did she feel as if marrying him would be barely preferable to death?

_He's not Loki._

The truth settled over her heart as if the imaginary boulder above her head had snapped and fallen deep into her chest. The thought of ever touching anyone else, of having a child by someone else, was repugnant, unthinkable. Spending the last seven days away from him had been hard enough, much harder than she ever would have dreamed, and there were several truths that her eyes had been irrevocably opened to in his absence.

The first was that she felt far too much for the Prince. It was not a purely physical longing that she felt, though that was a significant part of it. What she missed most was his presence, the way that they could speak or not speak and feel just as comfortable either way. She missed how she felt around him, like she'd found a kindred spirit, someone else who didn't fit into the mold that had been created for them. She missed his touch as much as she missed him, and when she tried to pinpoint at what time she had begun to feel such things, she found that she simply couldn't tell.

But that led to her next realization, a much more sobering one - her feelings did not make one inkling of difference. She knew that Loki would do nothing to spare her fate, whether or not he had confused and conflicted emotions of his own (and he seemed to). She didn't know what he wanted or why he acted as he did. She wondered if he would continue to come to her once she was engaged, or even when she was married. She wondered if she'd have the strength to resist him and retain what morality of hers was still intact. But maybe he wouldn't want her anymore once she was forced to be with another. Maybe it would be the thing to make him lose interest, and maybe he knew this, and that was why he wasn't lifting a finger to stop the impending engagement. Then, as he moved on and found some other poor soul to torment, she would be trapped in a long life utterly devoid of passion, every bit as ruined as he had intended her to be.

It was possible. But her instinct told her differently.

Either way, it hardly mattered. Aemilia turned her gaze to the ground and noticed a few fallen flower petals amid the grass near her feet, and she looked around to ensure that she was completely alone before attempting to levitate the petals. She had already read a quarter of Loki's magic book, and she practiced what she read every time she found herself alone.

All she had to do was imagine that wonderful, soothingly drumming magical energy within slipping from her fingertips, extending outside of herself far enough to brush against the petals, then lift them up into the air like an invisible extension of her hand. They moved up and down as she twitched her fingers, and though it was the most basic of magic, it was enough to bring a smile to her so-often frowning lips.

She then stilled her fingers, concentrating a bit harder, and then watched as the petals began to smoke before dissolving to falling ash. Loki had taught her many things, one of the chief things among them being just how beautiful it could be to watch something be destroyed.

* * *

He couldn't sleep. No matter what he did, he simply could not sleep. He blamed the ridiculous girl whose vacant bedroom he was currently snooping through.

The house was empty but for a handful of servants, and it was not the first time this week that he had come here in the dead of night. He hadn't known what he was looking for the first time any more than he did this time. What he did know was that it had been seven long, sleepless nights without the touch of his lover, and his chances of coming to a definite conclusion regarding her seemed more likely when he was lurking in her chambers.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about her room - it was clean and well-organized, suitably large, boring at first glance. However, as he ran his hand along the surface of everything - dark wooden dresser, desk at her window, nightstand at her bed, all the walls in between - he found something he hadn't noticed the other times he'd ended up here this week.

Surprisingly, there was what appeared to be a secret compartment in one of her desk drawers. Under a mass of papers scribbled with her handwriting and some accompanying books, a single loose sheet of paper stuck out from a wood panel that appeared to simply be the bottom of the drawer. But, the removal of the other papers and books revealed a small lock, and Loki smirked as he touched the lock and rendered it useless with his magic. Then he pried the panel up, revealing the things Aemilia apparently went to great lengths to ensure were kept secret.

The first thing that he noticed was the golden rose he'd given her after the opera, lying on some more loose papers and appearing every bit as perfect as the day he'd given it to her. He ran one fingertip down the stem, unable to remember the last woman he'd given a flower. Now that he considered it, she might have been the only woman he'd ever given one to.

Interesting.

Next to the rose lay a smooth, small, white rock. It took him a moment before he recognized it as one from the hot spring. He moved the items around and picked up the papers, then found even more.

The hair clip that she'd left with him the night they met and he'd returned a week later. A handkerchief he'd given her that night her mother's drunken ravings had left her in tears, his initials embroidered on the golden trimmings of the white cloth. He looked at the array of apparent mementos in mild confusion before he began examining the papers. What he found there made him feel... odd.

They were drawings. Most were innocuous things, like birds or flowers or other parts of nature. He wondered why she'd bother hiding them until he happened across a sketch of himself amongst the others.

The likeness was good, quite good. Her pencil had captured all of the fine details of his face, down to each little wrinkle that would appear at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He was grinning in her interpretation, mischief visible in his expression as he looked off in the distance at something, and he chuckled lightly at the appropriateness before looking through the rest of the pages.

He found a few more sketches. One was of himself and Thor, the latter grinning as he spoke into Loki's ear, making the younger brother laugh. He wondered when she would have been inspired to draw such a thing, then realized it had probably been the banquet. He also wondered when she had the time to draw such detailed, surprisingly skillful pictures.

The last one that he found bearing his visage might have made a lesser man blush. Unfinished, it was of him lying on his back, eyes closed, hair sticking to his temples, and she had only managed to draw his head, upper torso and half his arms, but enough space was left on the page to suggest that she intended to draw his entire sunbathing form. He wondered if she had left the drawing unfinished due to time restrictions - she had departed for her grandmother's the very next day following this depicted event - or if she had simply found herself unable to draw him in all of his... _entirety_.

Aside from the massive boost to his ego that came with the knowledge that this girl was so taken with him that she drew him from memory when she was alone, he looked at the other items she'd kept from their encounters and felt a strange sense of sadness nag at the edge of his mind. There seemed to be a specific purpose to her hoarding of these objects, something beyond simple sentimentality. Like she wanted something with which to remember him, and their affair, when it was all over. Perhaps something to prove that it had been real and not an elaborate, long-gone dream.

This was where guilt came in. He had known from the outset that she would eventually develop feelings beyond those of the solely physical nature. He just hadn't known if those feelings would be of revulsion or affection. He'd been expecting the former and had been shocked by the emergence of the latter.

His ruin of her had been a bit... _too_ effective. And its consequences far too mutual.

The simple fact that he was standing here, in her empty bedroom, looking through her most private things and closing his eyes whenever her lingering scent would waft into his nose, was disturbing enough without the added, bizarre guilt that he now felt. The bewildering little creature made him feel too much, quite simply, and he couldn't decide if he wanted to demand her hand in marriage as soon as she returned from her trip or ignore her until his dying day.

Naturally, he knew he'd do neither. She would come back, and he would spend hours letting her know how much he'd missed her without speaking a word. Well, there would be _some_ words - he was well aware of his inability to shut up when his creative words would illicit such delicious blushes and borderline animal noises from the girl, but that was beside the point. In fact, he had been toying with the idea of seeing just how much words alone could do to her, how completely desperate she would become if he refused to touch her but filled her ears with unspeakable things until she begged for something, anything, to end her torment.

But, he digressed.

He kept the first sketch out, then replaced the others back into her clever little locked compartment, careful not to disturb the rose as he did. He had his own little collection of items from their couplings, though he preferred to think of them as trophies rather than the sentimental relics hers seemed to be, and this sketch would fit in nicely. It was certainly quite novel.

Once everything was back as it was, he returned to his own chambers and tossed the sketch on top of his desk before looking around his room in disdain. He had been spending an inordinate amount of time here and was quite sick of it, especially these sleepless nights. In fact, the last time he had been this sleepless had been... when, exactly?

Alfheim, he suddenly remembered. Which was the last time he and Aemilia had been separated for a number of days.

Preposterous. She didn't even sleep in his bed, so clearly her absence wasn't the thing to blame. No, it was just his natural restlessness being particularly excessive. He'd always been late to bed and early to rise, requiring much less slumber than, say, his brother. The difference this week was that the lack of sleep was actually bothering him in the daytime.

As a last resort, he could always drink himself into a brief coma, but he wasn't quite that desperate yet. Instead, he'd keep trying the old fashioned way, falling into bed and staring at the ceiling until sleep hopefully overtook him.

But, as was becoming the habit, sleep did not come. He started casting random spells at the ceiling, bewitching it to look like a starry night sky, then changing it to a raging lightning storm on a whim, then toning it down to a simple rainstorm when that reminded him too much of Thor. But the sound of imaginary falling rain wasn't particularly soothing, so he let the illusion fade and watched his ceiling return to normal.

On another whim, he blinked and filled the room with doubles of himself, all looking equally bored and displeased as he did right now. There was even three other Lokis in his bed, all laying there as he was, softly glaring at the ceiling as it it were the building's fault that he couldn't sleep.

He blinked again, and all the doubles turned into Thor, minus the ones on the bed, and he considered using them as target practice for an hour or two. But Thor hadn't done anything to particularly anger or annoy him lately, so there wasn't a lot of appeal in that idea. With a sigh, he blinked again, and then his room was filled with a hundred Heimdalls.

He considered having all of the illusions do degrading and hilariously depraved things with one another, wondering if he'd finally elicit a reaction from the painfully stoic gatekeeper when the real one would inevitably turn his eye on the scene, but that would require Loki watching as well and even he didn't have the stomach for that.

He blinked again, and this time all of the doubles disappeared entirely. This boredom was going to kill him. If only his lover's third cousin or great-uncle, whatever it had been, had picked a different month to die, he wouldn't be bored right now. He would be quite occupied, rather enjoying himself, and he'd be listening to her breathy moans rather than the sound of his own irritated breathing.

Breathy moans, or hoarse screams. Either would do. She had sounded positively divine screaming his name in the hot spring.

Suddenly he heard a low little purr of a giggle, and he opened his briefly closed eyes to find her hovering over him. No, not her - a projection of her that he hadn't meant to cast. She was on top of him, hands planted on his pillow, an amused smirk on her pretty face as she looked down at him, dark hair falling around her face in a curtain. It should have tickled his cheeks, but she wasn't solid, only visual, and yet he suddenly felt his heartbeat quickening.

"Look at you," she lightly sneered, running an illusionary fingertip along his lips. "Does one week without my company wound you so?"

His own words, thrown back at him by his own consciousness, represented by the lover he didn't want to need. _Wonderful_.

"Do endeavor to survive until we are reunited."

That one made him smirk. He reached his hand towards her face, then, utilizing the newest trick his mother had taught him, willed the projection into solidity. He touched her cheek, feeling the soft skin he'd committed so thoroughly to memory that his mind had recreated it perfectly.

She kissed his thumb as it trailed down to her chin, and briefly he wondered how far he was willing to take this. In all truth, the concept was nothing more than fantasy and self-pleasure, but he felt a bit strange about physically bedding his lover's image. But, it would surely help him find sleep after, and it was a far preferable alternative to his hand, albeit a surreal one.

He sat up and she clutched his shoulders, settling into his lap as he ran his eyes over her. She was covered in only a short little emerald-green slip, and when he raised his eyes back to hers, he found her looking at him expectantly.

"Tell me what you want," she said, her hands warm on his bare shoulders.

He stared at her for a moment, considering those words. The ones that left his lips surprised even him. "Kiss me."

"Hard? Or slowly?"

Being that she was just an extension of his own mind, the questions were irrelevant. She already knew what he wanted, by definition. He was, essentially, taunting himself, forcing him to speak the answer that he was slightly ashamed of.

He spoke barely above a whisper. "Slowly."

She complied, and he closed his eyes as her familiar kiss washed over him. Fingers twisted into his hair and his arm slid around her waist, pulling her close, and though the kiss began slow and sweet, it quickly grew desperate.

It was easy to get lost in the fantasy, to so nearly forget that it was all a trick of his own mind, especially when every touch was so beautifully real. He wondered why he hadn't done this a week ago and saved himself seven days of frustration.

Breathless and lost in the memory of her mouth, Loki pulled away for only a second to catch his breath, and in that moment, she groaned his name. It sent shivers down his spine, and he wanted her to say it again, so she did, under the command of his mind. He kissed her again, and his thoughts began to wander under the staggering realization that she would quite literally do absolutely anything he wanted of her.

The problem with tangling with a physical extension of one's own mind, however, was that there was no restraint or censorship possible. As soon as a wish materialized in his mind, she fulfilled it. This was a good thing when he wanted her nails to scrap down back or her tongue to flick across the pulse in his neck, but not so much a good thing when he made the mistake of recalling something he'd found himself wishing for when she'd sang to him in bed a week ago.

It had been quickly cast aside and ignored then, and he had done very well not making the mistake of thinking on it again. Not until he heard her voice whimpering his name now between kisses, her need for him so clear in her tone, did he allow the thought to escape once more.

_What would she sound like if she told him..._

"I love you."

It was no more than a whisper, breathed harshly and yet also softly against his lips, and he jerked away as if she'd burned him.

He stared at her, breathing though his mouth, wanting - _needing_ - to hear the words again.

She smiled, and it was tender and sincere. "I love you, Loki. You know that I do."

He continued to stare with wide eyes, suspended somewhere between a need he didn't want and a growing sense of horror. Then he set his jaw, allowed his eyes to return to their normal size, and muttered, "Leave."

She disappeared instantly. He stared down at his lap, where the projection had been.

So this what he had been reduced to, conjuring doubles of his lover and having it proclaim her imaginary love for him in the late hours of a sleepless night.

"Sentimental fool," he heard his own voice mutter behind his back. He glanced behind him and glared at yet another unintentionally cast double, this time one of himself, lounging against his headboard and inspecting his nails as if exceedingly bored.

It was all a side effect of not sleeping, he reasoned. When he didn't sleep, he didn't control his magic as well, thus the rogue projections. The rest he could blame on a moment of idiocy.

Perhaps now was a good time to go ahead and drink himself into a coma before he managed to horrify himself even further.

* * *

A mixture of relief and fear came over Aemilia when a messenger came by one week and a half into her trip bearing news that the Queen had requested her presence at the palace in two days' time. She was relieved because it meant she would go home a day earlier than planned, but she was quite fearful because the message did not explain the nature of the visit.

Ayre had automatically, and enthusiastically, assumed that the Queen was clearly planning to invite her to sing for the court again, and in all likelihood, she was correct. The alternative was that the Queen had discovered her son's illicit activities and planned to string Aemilia up by her toes and torture her until she vowed to stay away from Loki.

It was highly unlikely, since Loki had been sampling the fairer sex for centuries and Frigga surely knew this, plus she didn't really appear to be the torturing type. That was more the King's forte, Aemilia thought.

But still, she was nervous, and she remained nervous when the day came and she departed with her parents back to the city of Asgard. She took her own carriage, as the invitation had been for her only, and soon she found herself being let into the palace grounds and warmly greeted by one of the Queen's handmaids as her horse and carriage were tended to in the stables.

She was hyperaware of her surroundings as the young maid led her through the main entrance and then down a hallway, up quite a few stairs and down another, longer hallway, then up yet more stairs. They were headed for the Queen's private chambers, the maid told her, and that sent another small wave of alarm through Aemilia. Wasn't that a little too familiar for a singer who had only met the Queen twice?

She paid close attention to the many rooms and doors that she passed, wondering if any of them were the one that she had spent so many of her nights in. She'd never seen it from the outside, never even stepped out on its balcony to see the view that he got to wake up to every morning. She had no idea what its doors even looked like.

Which was why she almost rolled her eyes when the maid led her past a set of doors with golden handles shaped like the horns of his helmet. He really deserved to be teased about that. She wondered, did Thor's room have feather handles?

"We are here, my lady," the maid said, rousing Aemilia from her musings, and she swallowed down her shock at how close Loki's rooms were to his mother's. She really, _really_ hoped that his soundproofing spells were as effective as he claimed, otherwise she might have to go outside and dig a hole to peacefully die of mortification in.

She walked through the large, beautifully carved doors that the maid opened for her, and smiled as Queen Frigga immediately came into view. Her sitting room was incredibly large and gorgeously decorated, all muted, elegant shades of aqua, violet, gold, silver, and some that looked like they had no name as of yet. The room smelled of flowers, like she was standing in the midst of a garden, and yet none of it was quite as beautiful as the Queen herself.

"Lady Aemilia," Frigga smiled warmly as she curtsied, giving the maid a nod to dismiss her. "Thank you for accepting my invitation."

"Thank you, my Queen," Aemilia smiled in response, a little bit surprised when Frigga put an arm around her shoulders and began leading her to two small couches with a table in between.

"I hope your travels were safe," Frigga said, motioning for her to sit on one of the couches while she sat on the other. "My condolences for the loss of your uncle."

"I hardly knew him, to be honest," Aemilia replied, taking note of the tea set on the table before her. The kettle and cups and saucers appeared to be made entirely of gold, with diamonds accented throughout, and yet it wasn't gaudy. Her family was rich, but nowhere near rich enough for her to have ever seen anything like it before. Then again, when she looked up at the Queen and took in her appearance - hair immaculate, face glowing, body draped in a peach-colored gown that shimmered like it was embroidered with thousands of tiny diamonds within the light fabric (maybe it was) - and suddenly, her own rather expensive medium-blue dress seemed positively dumpy in comparison. "But thank you, all the same."

Frigga nodded, a serene smile on her lips. "I am sure you are curious as to why I asked you here today. There is an event here at the palace that I am overseeing the planning of, and while I am not yet at liberty to tell you exactly what the event is, I can tell you that it would be our great honor to have you sing at its open."

Relief rushed over Aemilia. How foolish she'd been to fear being hung by her toes, by this radiant woman who simply oozed love from her very pores. "Oh. It would be my privilege, my Queen. Thank you so much for giving me the honor."

"You have the loveliest voice that I've heard in some time," Frigga smiled. "It will be our privilege. Now, I will arrange for you to meet with our composer, and you must begin preparing by week's end. Anything that you need, I will personally see that you have it."

"Thank you," Aemilia replied, excitement starting to trickle through her veins. "I am truly at a loss for what to say."

"Oh, my dear," Frigga chuckled lightly. "You are a sweet girl. Do you have any other areas of interest, other than singing and music?"

"Oh, well... I enjoy writing and drawing, but I don't feel particularly skilled in either. I try to stick to singing."

"You are modest," Frigga noted. "It is becoming."

"Thank you," Aemilia said for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Is my son treating you well?"

At this, Aemilia was fairly sure that her heart stopped beating. There was nothing smooth or calm about the way that her eyes widened and didn't blink as she held her breath, feeling like a child caught with something they _really_ weren't supposed to have.

"I... "

"I've known since the opera, dear, you needn't be anxious," Frigga said calmly, without a trace of hostility or judgement in her tone. "I only wish to know if he is treating you well."

Aemilia swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to compose herself. "He... yes."

"Good. And your courtship, how does it fare?"

She swallowed again, though now her mouth and throat were completely dry and it was painful. "I believe he will propose soon."

"Has my son given any indication that he will stop this from happening?" Frigga asked. "Forgive my questions, but he will not give me answers himself."

"No," Aemilia replied. "I... don't believe he truly knows what he wants."

Frigga nodded at this, like she understood what she meant all too well. It was surreal. "How long have the two of you been involved?"

What a diplomatic way of putting it. "Since the week after I first sang at the palace."

"Then I was correct." When Aemilia looked puzzled, Frigga went on, "I began to notice a significant change in him at that time. A change for the better - smiling more, withdrawing less. But then he would revert back to more... irritable behavior when he accompanied me to Alfheim some time ago, as well as these last few weeks."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what else to say to that.

"Do you care for him?"

Her heart suddenly felt heavy. She'd never spoken aloud of her affair to anyone until now, and yet now she was speaking candidly of it to his mother, the Queen. "Yes." There was no use in denying it. "Deeply."

Frigga sighed. "He cares for you as well, but he is stubborn and... conflicted. He has been this way since birth. It is simply his nature. And I have always told him that his lack of self-perception is his greatest deficit. I fear he will let you slip by and leave you both to misery."

"I wouldn't... I don't... believe that he would be miserable in the event of my engagement, your grace," Aemilia said, trying to think of a way to delicately say what she next intended to. "He was quite clear from the outset what his intentions were."

"I don't doubt that he was," Frigga replied. "But I know my son. And I've never seen him so affected by a woman. When we saw you at the opera, the way that he watched you... it is the way all women wish for a man to look at them."

Suddenly uncomfortable at the implication of this, Aemilia tried to think of a way to redirect the conversation. "Forgive me for asking this, my Queen, but... does anyone else know?"

"His brother knows," Frigga replied. "He worked it out on his own, even before I did. But I have not, and will not, tell another soul. You can count on Thor's discretion as well."

"I suppose this sort of thing is not... uncommon," Aemilia muttered.

Frigga nodded sympathetically. "I raised my sons to treat women with respect and court them properly, but... they are men. It is unfair to you, Aemilia, and I am fully aware of this. If others were to find out, you would lose everything and my son would lose nothing. Asgardian society is not nearly as advanced as we would like to think."

"Yes, but he has never forced me. Whatever consequences I do or do not face, they will be due to my own choices. I will accept them accordingly."

"You have strength," Frigga observed. "I can see why he is taken with you. I think you make a fine match for him."

Though she would eternally be flattered that this elegant, admirable woman thought her a suitable match for her son, her words hurt to hear, because Aemilia was quite sure that it would make no difference in the end. "Thank you, your grace."

Frigga nodded, then glanced towards the wall before drawing a breath. "I'm afraid I must on my way now, I am needed in court."

"Of course," Aemilia nodded, standing up as the Queen also stood. "Thank you for the invitation and your... concern, as well as your candor."

Frigga smiled, taking her hand comfortingly as they walked towards the door. "And I thank you for your honesty, dear girl. It is certainly not Loki's strongest suit, as I am sure you know."

When they reached the door, Frigga turned to Aemilia and said, "If you wish to return home, I will have my handmaid come and show you the way out. Or, I believe Loki will be returning from the training grounds soon, if you wished to wait for him in his chambers."

This was just... bizarre. It was good, and a relief that his mother knew of their affair and apparently gave it her blessing, but bizarre all the same. "Yes, thank you, I will do that."

Frigga smiled. "Walk with me, and I'll ensure you are not seen."

* * *

Loki marched through the palace hallways, hair sweat-dampened and feet heavy as they stamped along the pristine floors, an audible warning to anyone who thought it a good idea to spare him so much as a passing glance. He'd just gotten done training alone for the last few - three? Four? - hours, and it was only a mildly satisfying stress reliever.

Thor was off hunting with Sif and the warriors, and Loki had declined his invitation to join earlier that morning without a second thought. Thor had asked what had him so grumpy lately with a very non-subtle wink, and Loki had rolled his eyes and ignored him. He was not "grumpy". He was simply...

Well, perhaps he was a bit grumpy. And perhaps it was getting worse the closer Aemilia's return drew, because the quicker it approached, the more his anticipation and impatience grew, which in turn led to self-ridicule and more sour moods. What else did Thor expect?

Once he reached his doors, he walked in and slammed them shut behind him without a thought, then reached for the hem of his black tunic before looking up and freezing in place. On his bed there was a little blue splash of color amidst the green silk, and bright eyes met his over the edge of a book held in small hands.

_Not again_, he thought irritatedly. He'd been taking a sleeping draught to aid his insomnia, and it had helped get his magic back under control - this didn't really make sense.

Slowly, Aemilia dropped the book to bed, next to her lap, staring at him warily. When willing her to disappear back into his consciousness didn't work, Loki turned away from her and headed towards his bath. "Leave."

It was when he glanced at his bed one more time that he realized the girl was no projection - she was staring at him with an expression as if he'd slapped her, and she was certainly not dissolving into thin air like a double would.

_Oh_.

"Aemilia?"

He said it like he'd just recognized her after mistaking her for another.

"Who did you think I was?" she demanded, hurt giving way to slight anger.

"I thought you weren't due back until tomorrow," he said lamely, silvertongue currently malfunctioning.

"I apologize for my early return," she said, quickly getting up from the bed, and it was then that he was able to fully take in her appearance - barefoot, hair down, the front laces of her dress loosened enough to give him a peek of what lay beneath - and he could have thrown himself out of a window for being such an idiot. "I'll be on my way."

He appeared in front of her just before she reached the doors, and she skidded to a halt before their chests could collide. "You aren't going anywhere," he said, bewilderment gone from his eyes and replaced by hunger. Oh, how hungry he was. "What are you doing here?"

"I had business here at the palace that brought me home a day early," she said, her tone not as harsh now as her eyes raked over him. He knew she'd like him like this. "Foolishly I decided to come here and surprise you."

"No, I am the fool," he said quickly, reaching out to her. Her gaze remained stony but she didn't shrink from his hand as it cupped her jaw. "Forgive me. I thought you an illusion."

Her eyes dropped to his lips as they softened at his words - silvertongue no longer malfunctioning - and he leaned in to taste her lips like a man dying of thirst who had been brought to a well.

But she placed two fingers on his lips and stopped him. "Answer me something first."

He then watched as she slipped away, strolling to his desk, surely knowing his eyes would be glued to her hips as she moved. He was going to utterly devour her.

She picked up a piece of paper from his desk and spun around, holding up her sketch of him and raising an eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

_Valhalla_, he'd missed her.

* * *

She was fairly sure that she deserved a monument built to her self-restraint. Her insides had turned to fire the moment he walked through his door looking so deliciously sweaty and lightly clothed that it was a wonder she hadn't lost it then and there, and pretending to be upset about her stolen sketch when she could be on her knees was taking every bit of willpower she owned.

Especially when he disappeared and reappeared an inch away from her looking like a ravenous beast himself.

"Oh, that," he said casually with a smile, fingers reaching between them and plucking at the laces of her dress that she'd half-undone in an attempt to be seductive. "You are rather multi-talented. I was impressed and wanted to keep it."

He then snatched the paper from her hand and set it behind her, pressing his body fully against hers as he did. He was already rock hard and jabbing into her thigh through his thin clothing, and her knees ached to hit the floor for him. "You're rather fond of violating my privacy."

"Tell me you didn't look through my things while you waited here for me," he challenged, returning his attention to her dress. He tore at the laces and they snapped, making her jump a little in surprise.

"I didn't, actually," she replied, her dress sliding off of her shoulders as he pushed her back against the desk, one of his legs sliding between both of hers. "Unless you count perusing your rather extensive library."

"I admire your restraint, little one," he said, breaking eye contact only to lean into her ear and drop his voice to an unbearably seductive whisper. "But if you do not drop this act of resistance and unleash yourself upon me I will tie you to my bed and see that you scream until you lose that pretty voice of yours."

Well, he asked for it.

She threw herself at him with enough force to make him stagger backwards a step or two, sealing her lips to his in a fiery kiss that she felt in her very soul. He growled his approval against her lips, then moaned when she buried her hand in his damp hair and yanked it back so she could sink her teeth into his neck. His last mark was still visible on her own neck, so damn it all, this time she was going to mark him too, whether he liked or not.

He appeared to _love_ it, a shockingly wanton sound escaping his throat, and it made her already-burning body jolt like lightning had struck her. She licked the spot that she had bitten and then felt her own head being yanked back, opening her eyes to only for a second see the blazing within his own before he crushed his mouth against hers and started moving them across the room.

They didn't make it to the bed, but they made it to a little couch in front of one of his many bookshelves. He tried to throw her on it but she wrapped her leg around one of his own and somehow managed to turn him around and push him down instead - she didn't know how she did it, and he didn't either, looking slightly confused when his back hit the backrest and she clambered on to his lap. She merely smiled and kissed him as her hands attacked his shirt, forcing her to break away from his lips to yank it over his head. Then her hands ran over the blessedly exposed chest, savoring how it felt under her fingertips, committing it all to memory, nearly distracting her from the way he gripped the back of her dress and tore it down the middle.

One day, she would send him a bill for the high number of dresses that hadn't survived his hands.

She tossed the ruined dress to the floor, then was immediately pulled tightly to his chest, and she gripped his hair as his mouth latched to a nipple and refused to let go until she was grinding down against him for need of friction. It was then, as his tongue teased her into a frenzy and his hips moved torturously with hers, that she started to feel the ache in her knees again. Once she imagined it, giving in and doing what she wanted, her mouth started to water, and she gave his hair another yank, forcing him off of her and allowing her to slide off of him and drop to her knees on the floor.

She didn't need to take his knees and push his legs apart, because they were wide open anyway, like they quite literally always were, even when he was standing. She simply took her place between them and set her fingers to the task of undoing the laces of his trousers as she kissed the planes of his chest down to his stomach, and he moved his hands through her hair, watching as her mouth moved lower while her fingers worked on freeing him.

She didn't notice how badly her fingers shook until she pulled away a bit and realized she hadn't done a damn thing to actually loosen the laces. Then, before her eyes, the trousers vanished, and she glanced up to find Loki grinning at her.

"Anticipation getting the better of you?"

She rolled her eyes and let her nails bite into his thighs. He tensed and she flipped her hair over one shoulder before taking him in her hand, staring up at him as she lazily gave him a few strokes. "I've half a mind to make you beg."

His grin widened. "Who says you you'd have to make me?" When she only raised an eyebrow in response, he added, "You look magnificent on your knees."

She responded by parting her lips and tasting just the tip of him with her tongue. She teased him purposefully, looking up and watching for his reactions as she did everything but close her lips around him - a kiss here, a long lick there, a twist of her hand, perhaps all three at once. His hand rested in her hair but didn't push or pull her, and his eyes didn't break contact with hers until she ran out of will to resist and took him fully into her mouth.

His eyes slid shut and so did hers, and the groan that rumbled out of his chest spurred her on as she let him hit the back of her throat. His hand closed in a fist in her hair but still didn't apply any pressure as she started a rhythm in tandem with her hand. She listened to a chorus of his ragged breaths and carefree moans, the ache between her legs bordering on painful as it grew with each sound he made.

She could feel him tensing under her free hand after only a few moments, heard his voice becoming more and more out of control, and she didn't think she'd ever gotten him to the edge so quickly before. He didn't protest or try to pull her away, and she was glad, because she wouldn't have let him try to prolong his peak anyway.

His fist in her hair tugged back a bit, and she tilted her head differently to look up at him. Their eyes met, and she savored the color staining his pale cheeks, the way his mouth hung open as his breaths started coming in gasps, and the trail of his eyes as he watched himself disappear in her skilled little mouth. He was so beautiful it hurt.

And then, she watched the stages of his release play out on his face. He was open, unguarded, shockingly vulnerable as he felt himself tipping over the edge, his eyes leaving hers and drifting upwards, unseeing, as he surrendered to what was washing over him. For as loud as he had been until now, his mouth stayed open in an utterly silent cry and somehow it was more powerful that way. His head slowly tilted back, his eyes still open and rapturously unfocused as she began drinking him down, and just watching him was so nearly enough to make her nearly come undone herself.

When the end came, he had let his head hit the back of the couch and only when the pleasure had begun to ebb did he close his eyes, just a corner of his upper lip curling as he exhaled deeply. She didn't release him until his last little twitches and aftershocks had faded, and her heart thudded when she saw that one of his hands had covered her free one as it had rested on his hipbone. She hadn't even noticed, but that touch alone seemed to make it all so very much more... _intimate_.

Then he drew his hand away to run it through her hair as his panting breaths shifted to a rumbling chuckle. He guided her up off of her knees with that hand, raising his head slowly as he said slightly hoarsely, "Oh, I've _missed_ you."

She smiled as she straddled him once more, placing her hands on his shoulders as one of his reached up to her lips. His thumb wiped at the corner of her mouth and then pressed against her bottom lip, and she gently sucked away the last trace of him.

"Can I tell you something, with full sincerity?"

She looked at him skeptically as she released his thumb. He let it wander over to her cheek as she replied, "I don't know, _can_ you?"

He grinned, his eyes still hazy with satisfaction. "You are better with your mouth than any lover I've had."

Her first instinct was to doubt his sincerity, but what reason did he have to lie? He was looking at her in a way that made her heart start thudding again, like when she had seen his hand over hers a moment ago, and she said the first thing that entered her mind. "Then I suppose you've taught me well."

"I've taught you technique," he replied. "That is only part of what makes you the best I've had." He then looked at her like she was a puzzle, studying her before he asked, "Why do you enjoy it as you do?"

She blinked, having never really thought about it until now. "Did your other lovers not enjoy it?"

He smiled at her like she was an innocent child that he was about to break an unpleasant truth to. "Generally, no, Aemilia. It is not the average woman's favorite task."

Oh. "I... well, I suppose that I enjoy it because I know that you enjoy it. And I like..."

"Like what?"

She drew a breath. "I like hearing you and watching you while I'm doing it."

"And it arouses you."

It did more than she could express in words. She didn't have to, though, because he reached between her legs and found out for himself exactly what pleasuring him did to her.

"You confound me, woman," he said, fingers idly stroking her as he dropped his lips to the base of her neck. "I've never had anything like you before."

She clutched him as he licked up her neck, slowly rocking against his hand, and she wondered if he really was that confused by what should have been abundantly clear to him by now.

He'd never had anything like her before, because clearly, he'd never had a lover who actually loved him before.

The truth hit her with such force she could have believed that Mjolnir had just been tossed at her face. Her hips stopped moving and his lips kissed her jaw just before he pulled away and met her suddenly-sober gaze. She stared at him, recalling his mother's words about the way Loki looked at her, and suddenly she understood what the Queen had meant.

When had he started looking at her like she was the very air to his lungs, the water to his parched lips? Was he even aware himself? Certainly he wasn't.

The way that her heart ached under his gaze only confirmed her sudden epiphany. She was beyond being in too deep. She'd fallen to her fiery end before she could even realize that she had jumped, and now all she could do was wait until she hit the ground and was utterly consumed.

Ruined, doomed, cursed, damned. She was all of those words and more.

"Loki..."

He exhaled a little too deeply at the sound of his name. His hand had slowed down to a leisurely, barely-there touch that felt more like a caress than anything, his eyes falling to her lips before moving back up to her eyes.

_Nine Realms_, how she had ached for him these last two weeks.

"I've missed you," she said, not meaning to whisper brokenly. A small smile grew on his lips, and he kissed the corner of her mouth.

Two fingers slid within her and she shuddered as he whispered against her mouth, "How much?"

"Too much," she replied, straining to shade her voice with humor. She wouldn't dare let him know that she was nearly about to burst, she felt so much.

"Show me."

She didn't mean to moan, but she did as she grabbed his face and kissed him desperately. It was far easier than speaking words and much less dangerous, since she didn't trust herself to not say something she'd regret. He answered her kiss with equal fervor, one hand splayed on the small of her back, holding her close while the other twisted and moved quicker between her legs. His thumb brushed her most sensitive spot but only just, and after a few moments of teasing, she broke away from their heated kiss to half-gasp "Don't tease me, Loki, I haven't long until I must return home."

He growled and narrowed his eyes at her, giving her what she wanted but also digging his other fingertips into her back enough to make her wince. The dueling sensations made her moan - it was wonderful.

"No," he said with a tone of finality, though she heard the desperation under his tone. "Stay."

"I cannot, my -" she faltered and groaned at the curl of his fingers, "my mother expects me back within..."

She yelped when he ripped his hand away from her and then gripped her hips and pulled her down, burying himself within her before she could so much as breathe. "Your Prince requires you to stay," he demanded, lifting her up and slamming her back down to make his point, "so you will stay."

She couldn't have argued if she wanted to, and she didn't, so she gave in to the pleasure and let him guide them in an unrelenting, wholly ungentle pace. Just two weeks apart had left her needing to readjust to him, but she welcomed the slight pain of it, letting it ground her and anchor her to reality to keep from being washed away by the seductive lure of the sheer contentment she felt at being with him again.

A moment later he growled and her world flipped, literally, as she felt her back hit a sea of silk. She was now in the middle of his bed, that place she had been yearning to return to for what had felt like much longer than two weeks, and he smiled down at her and chuckled as he grabbed the back of her knee and lifted her leg up over his shoulder.

She didn't ask what was so amusing, because she really didn't want to know. She simply only wanted to enjoy the look on his face, the joy etched on it so briefly as they lost themselves to the moment at hand. He pushed inside of her and took her deeply, as deeply as he could, and his lips crashed down on hers and swallowed her shaky cries.

Broken words left his lips as he gasped between kisses, his grip on her leg bruising as the other tangled in her hair, and she tried to understand what he was saying, but all she could make out was her name and a few curses as they fell from his tongue. There was no finesse or art to how he pounded into her, only sheer need and desperation to be closer, and she wouldn't have asked for anything different, not this time.

He made her come twice before she begged him to let himself go and take her as he pleased, and when he did, he braced himself on the headboard and let his need take him over. It was enough to make her fall apart a third time, almost crying in relief when his voice left his throat in a rough, final moan. She knew she would suffer from the aftermath of this roughness if he didn't heal her, but even the pain would be so much better than feeling what she had for the last two weeks, which was nothing at all.

After, Loki rolled away from Aemilia and quickly pulled her towards him, taking a deep breath and looking at her with slightly heavy green eyes. His tone was one of pure seriousness as he said, "Stay."

She smiled, her fingertips dancing on his chest as she replied, "I told you, Loki, I must return home."

She expected him to invoke his royal authority again, but instead, he asked, "What business brought you here to the palace today?"

"Your mother invited me to sing at a future event. I do not know what event, but I will be spending a few days a week here working with your composers." When Loki did not appear to have a comment for this, she added, "You never told me that she knew. Or your brother."

"Does it matter? Truly?"

She pursed her lips. "Perhaps not to you."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he rolled himself on top of her again, lifting up on his elbows as he grinned down at her. "I can _make_ you stay, you know."

"Oh?"

He kissed her quickly before grinning wider. "Oh yes. What power have you to leave or so much as speak coherently when my tongue is between your thighs? After all," he tilted his head, "I absolutely _must_ return the exquisite favor you were so eager to bestow upon me earlier."

He kissed her neck and she ran her hands through his damp hair, smiling as she replied, "Later, please... let me go home and eat dinner with my family, and then I shall be yours."

"Mine," he hummed, kissing down her skin, lingering at the swell of her breast as he kissed it softly. She watched as he dropped his face between her breasts and appeared to inhale deeply before raising his head and saying, "I'm afraid I cannot send you home in this condition, my lady. You positively reek of _me_."

She then watched as he raised himself up and moved from the bed, taking her hand and guiding her to do the same as he said, "Come. Take a bath with me."

On the one hand, she didn't want to wash his scent away - he had such a distinct, intoxicating natural scent, and she loved how it lingered for hours on her skin when she would leave him. But on the other hand, she had never had a bath with him before, and she wouldn't dare decline such an invitation.

His bathtub was as enormous and elaborately carved and gilded as she had expected, and it filled quickly when he turned on the taps. Luxurious oils poured in of their own accord from smaller taps of their own, and the room filled with their assorted scents just before he shut off the taps and turned to her with a hand outstretched.

He helped her in first, then slid into the hot water behind her. She closed her eyes and purred as relaxation overcame her, leading her to lean back and lay her head on his shoulder. Her hands were on his knees that she was nestled between, and she closed her eyes as he kissed her where her ear met her jaw.

"_Valhalla_," she sighed, and he chuckled, his hands roaming up her stomach and down her side. "Now _this_ is a bath."

"Mmm," he hummed in agreement, moving his lips to her temple, where he kissed gently. Her hands ran slowly up and down, from his knees to his thighs, and inside she felt a sense of wonder of just how wonderful it felt to lie with him like this, how simple and easy it was. How perfectly she could imagine living this way, every day, with him, his touch, his kiss, his affection.

She could take it all, the good and the bad, and she would take it gladly. She would so easily be his if she could, if he but said the word.

"Did your eye wander in my absence?"

She was as surprised by her question as he was. She didn't open her eyes, but felt his smirk on her temple before he answered. "Would you be angry if it had?"

"Perhaps," she replied.

"Then I shall put your mind at ease. My only pleasure came by my own hand, to thoughts only of you."

Her stomach flipped lightly at his words, though she wasn't sure why. Her eyes opened. "It's difficult to believe a master of lies when he says such things."

"I could show you," he said, running his fingers through her hair, most of it soaked and floating through the water. "Let you have a look inside my mind, my memories. Or I could just describe it to you."

She bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She watched her own hands move over his knees as they poked out of the water, waiting for him to choose for himself.

"It has been... centuries, since I have been compelled to take matters into my own hands, so to speak. I've never needed to."

"You still do not need to," she pointed out. "If you had so desired, you could have had your pick of bedmates in my absence."

"If I had so desired, yes," he replied. "What would you say, Aemilia, if I told you that early on in our scandalous little affair, I was propositioned by an old lover in my chambers. A pretty little whore who has centuries of experience to your several months."

Aemilia's eyes widened and she turned to look at Loki. He was smirking. She felt jealousy rising up inside.

"She got on her knees like she had many times for me before, right in the middle of my bedroom. She opened her mouth and placed it upon me and moaned like she she'd never tasted anything so sweet."

She was now staring at Loki with such anger that a lesser man would have withered under it. She didn't notice how the temperature of the water rose along with her anger.

"Would you like to know what happened next, little one?"

"I'd rather not," Aemilia snapped, shoving herself off of him with the intent of getting far away from him. But his arm quickly snatched her and held her against his chest.

His whisper in her ear was harsh. "I thought of you. Imagined that it was your mouth instead of hers, your eyes looking up at me instead. And then I forced her off of me and quite literally threw her out of my room."

Her angry stare now mingled with a look of pure confusion. "Why?"

"I desire only you."

She felt her mouth drop open as a thousand thoughts raced through her head at once. She was still angry that he'd broken his word to her and let another woman get that far with him, but it wasn't exactly surprising.

Eventually, her mind settled on how to feel about this and she looked away from him, staring forward without really seeing anything.

"Are you upset with me?"

"No," she said in a small voice. "But perhaps I will be when the day comes that I come to you and you throw _me_ out of your room because you've found someone new to desire."

All of the good, warm feelings that had come with being reunited were now fading under the harsh light of truth. His little admission had reminded her of what this truly was, her relationship with the Prince - for all of her growing love for him and his confusing attachment to her, this was still an illicit, shameful affair, doomed to fail from the outset. There was no happy ending, only one that grew more and more dire the deeper she fell for him.

His fingers took her chin and turned her to look at him. Their faces were only a breath apart, and he was looking at her like she was the single most bewildering creature he'd ever laid eyes on.

"You speak nonsense," he said, staring at her as if he were working out a problem of arithmetic in his head. "Why does telling you of my fidelity bring you this... sadness?"

"Fidelity," she repeated, laughing as she turned away from him again and laid her head back on his shoulder. His arm was still firm around her waist, so she wasn't going anywhere. "There is no fidelity in something such as this, _your highness_. And thinking of me while some whore gives you favors is not fidelity."

She stared at the ceiling as he paused for a few long moments. "It was a rather foolish attempt to prove to myself that you were as good as any other. I reached the opposite conclusion."

She closed her eyes, fighting another swell of anger in her chest. The water temperature began to rise again, and she didn't notice it this time either. "Who was she?"

"Ilyana, daughter of Iuli," Loki answered.

At this, Aemilia stiffened and opened her eyes. His arm tightened around her as he sensed that she would flee again. "_Her_? That painted little... that..."

"Yes."

She wanted to strangle the Prince behind her. Of all of the depraved, cheap, notoriously shameless whores that he could have had...

"I didn't tell you this to be cruel, Aemilia," Loki said, and she turned to look at him as he spoke. "I don't want your anger, and I certainly don't want to see you distressed."

"Don't you?" she asked, with a laugh devoid of any humor. "My distress and misery were two of your most important goals when this began, were they not?"

He looked down at her lips and appeared fully sincere when he looked back into her eyes and said, "I've grown to despise your pain as much I do my own."

Her brows furrowed and she looked away, too confused to think properly. "You have odd ways of showing it."

She heard him chuckle and felt his lips graze her ear. "As do you. Tell me, why do you draw me?"

She blinked slowly, not wanting to answer. In fact, she was entirely tired of speaking, and nearly sick of feeling. She felt more drained than she could remember ever feeling before.

"I have a very precisely detailed memory. I can draw things I've seen somewhat well without additional reference. It is really nothing more than that."

"Ah," he said, placing a kiss on her neck just under her ear. "Of course."

She still wanted to strangle him. She was still angry. She should have pushed him away and insisted on leaving, and perhaps punish him for a few days by refusing to come to his bed when he called. Instead, she twisted herself around so that her chest was pressed to his and she kissed him.

She kissed him the way that he most often kissed her, hard and dominant and possessive, and she knew that she was lighting the fire between them again by doing it. She didn't know what else to do - this was what he had taught her, what she knew and was familiar with. It was what she would always want, no matter the reasons why she should not.

He purred in appreciation of her roughness and crushed her against him with his arms, letting her do as she wished and answering her kiss with his own unquenchable thirst.

She didn't hesitate to sink her teeth into his bottom lip when the desire presented itself. She knew he'd love it, and it gave her the chance to draw herself away for a second or two and whisper heatedly against his lips, "I hate you."

He laughed, low in his throat, and looked up at her with glimmering eyes. "Leave the lies to me, darling. They suit me far better."

**A/N: these chapters just keeping longer... and longer... and longer :) and angstier. I had to sit down and type out an actual outline (which I NEVER do) for the next three chapters because SO MUCH CRAP is gonna be happening and I couldn't keep it all straight in my head. I can't overstate just how eventful the upcoming chapters are going to be and how giddy I am to have reached this point in the story :) eeeeeeee! **

**And I have a little gift for you guys this week! As soon as I'm done posting this chapter, I'm uploading a tie-in oneshot called Seeing Double, and it can be considered an extension to this chapter, detailing the events of what happens after Aemilia finally goes home and has dinner with her folks and then gets promptly whisked back to Loki's room, lol. I'm posting it separate because it is utterly PWP, and a tad... different. In a good (slightly weird) way :) **

**Thank you guys for all of your reviews, alerts, favorites, it means a lotttt to me and EEP we got to 100 reviews! *puts on party hat and dances* Maybe, as an incentive for all of your continued reviewing, I'll throw in amother bonus chapter/oneshot with every future review milestone (200th review, 300th, etc.), as a bribe/show of my immense gratitude :) I mean, why not? It'll be fun. So keep da feedback coming :) you're all amazing. And so is midnightwings96. :D a particular Loki visual in this chapter is her fault... I'm curious if any Hiddles fans will recognize it. I will send a huge imaginary e-cookie to anyone who does. **

**Geez this note is going on forever. I'll shut up now. Go check out the oneshot! Pretty please! :D **


	9. Chapter 9

One day, when Loki was as old and gray as Odin himself, he would look back on his life and pinpoint the handful of moments that most influenced the paths that he took. Life, whether long and Aesir or short and mortal, all inevitably came down to just a small amount of moments that were the most influential, the most irrevocably powerful ones that either set the course for success or derailed one's existence into chaos. Hundreds, even thousands of years could be undone in matter of seconds, with a handful of words, and make the next thousand years entirely different from what they would have been just a moment before.

This, Loki knew, was one of those moments.

He stood next to Thor in their father's throne room. Odin sat on the throne, Frigga standing to his right, as the All-Father spoke a simple sentence that changed everything.

"... _and at season's end, you shall be proclaimed King."_

Once it was said, once the moment had happened and could not be undone, Loki felt a shift take place inside of him. He'd known this day would come in time, had known it for nearly a year now - but he never would have dreamed that it would happen so soon.

On the outside, he was calm. He even turned to Thor and gave him a grand smile that told his older brother that he was truly, sincerely happy for him. And maybe on some level, he was. This was all Thor had ever wanted, all he had ever worked and fought for in his many centuries of life, and now it was in his grasp. It was hard to not be happy for a brother that you loved, fiercely, when they were so full of happiness themselves.

But, on the inside, Loki was panicking.

Thor was not ready. Thor was nowhere near ready. And the All-Father was surely losing his wits to think any differently.

Loki caught Frigga's softly concerned look after he turned from the smile that he and Thor had shared. Loki gave her the smallest, most subtle of nods, assuring her that he was not about to have an envy-fueled breakdown over the throne that had just been figuratively handed to his brother. What he had always told her was true - he did not want the throne, truly. He only ever wanted the courtesy of being equally considered for it. Which had not happened.

And the only reason that Thor was being given the throne well before he was fit to take it, Loki immediately suspected, was because of Loki himself. As Frigga had told him only weeks ago, he would be at Thor's right hand as King, his strength where he was weak, the other half of a team that would take the Nine Realms into another age of peace and triumph.

In other words, when Thor acted brashly, Loki would rein him in. When Thor wanted to split other worlds apart with his hammer for the smallest slight, Loki would urge him to think twice. When Thor would nearly bring about the end of Yggdrasil itself with war wrought by his arrogance and anger, Loki would stop him.

And he would never receive a single ounce of credit for any of it, though that was a concept he was rather used to.

But Loki knew better. Thor rarely listened to his words of reason. Thor did what he wanted. Thor answered to Thor. The center of Thor's existence was Thor.

Under his rule, Asgard would burn. And Loki would not be able to stop it.

The panic felt white-hot and sickening as it coursed through his veins, but he was not called the god of lies for nothing. Not only did he appear to be wholly ecstatic for Thor, he even gave an impromptu speech before they were dismissed that was not only unwaveringly supportive, but positively dripping in saccharine sweetness. It felt bitter on his tongue but sounded like honey to the ears of his family. Frigga became teary-eyed, Odin looked pleased, but Thor, while he smiled back and thanked Loki for the kind words and was always happy to have praise heaped upon him, looked almost... irritated.

A short while later, Loki walked alongside Thor as they left the throne room. The announcement would be made at noon, and then all of Asgard would know that the Crown Prince of Asgard would be their King in only three months' time.

Thor had never looked so obnoxiously ecstatic in his life.

"Three months," Loki mused as they rounded a corridor. "Are you certain that you're ready, brother?"

"Ha!" Thor scoffed. "Do I appear unready?"

"Certainly not," Loki answered with a grin. "But, as closest advisor to the future King, I must be sure, mustn't I?"

"Who said you get the title of closest advisor?" Thor teased, mock confusion on his face. "Perhaps I was considering Volstagg for the job."

"Ah, yes, he would be quite indispensable if you were seeking counsel regarding choosing either the beef or the pheasant at your coronation banquet."

Thor laughed. "Be nice."

"Am I ever anything but?"

At this, Thor stopped walking, and they stood facing one another in front of a pair of large stone columns. The hallway was empty, even of servants, so Thor did not bother to lower his voice as he spoke to his brother. "Now, brother, I do not wish for you to take this the wrong way, but -"

Loki gave a false gasp and wrinkled his nose. "Oh dear - are you going to ask me to be your date to the coronation?"

Thor cracked a smile and lifted a finger to his brother. "Stop that. I am in a rather serious mood."

Loki raised his hands in mock surrender. "Noted. Go on."

"I appreciate your speech a moment ago," Thor said. "Your support means much to me. But know that this is to be my time of triumph. I don't want you making your usual plays for attention."

The grin slipped from Loki's face as he narrowed his eyes. "Are you implying that I said what I said to gain attention?"

"I do not wish to argue with you, brother."

"Is that truly why you think I said I what I did?"

Thor paused and glanced away for a moment before replying, "You have always found a way to make yourself the center of attention even on the days that were meant only for me, Loki, and you know it."

Loki laughed. He couldn't help it. "_Me? _The center of attention, next to _you_, the _Mighty_ _Thor?_ What could I possibly do to take attention from you as the entire kingdom fawns over you, their future King?"

"I don't know, trickster - you tell me," Thor retorted, though there was no malice in his tone. Just arrogance.

"If anything has been confirmed today, brother, it's that you never have to worry about your _trickster_ little brother stealing attention from you ever again," Loki pointed out.

"Is that a hint of bitterness I hear?"

"Not at all."

They stood and stared at each other for a moment. Thor eventually broke the silence. "You claim to have never wanted the throne but sometimes I suspect differently."

"Your suspicion is false, but it clearly matters not, either way."

"See? When you say things such as that -"

"I do not want the throne," Loki said, suddenly through gritted teeth. "All I ever wanted was -"

"Equal consideration, I know."

Loki had lost track of where this argument was going. "I am second in line to the throne. I am every bit as qualified to rule as you are. It wouldn't kill you to acknowledge that from time to time."

"Every bit as..." Thor trailed off, laughing. Loki narrowed his eyes as Thor widened his slightly and smiled. "Shall we end this argument, once and for all, before it can come between us?"

"How do you propose that we do that?"

"Fight me. We will put to rest any doubts that the right brother was chosen to ascend the throne."

Now it was Loki's turn to laugh. "Brother, there is more to being King than mere physical strength."

"The words of a man who knows that he will lose," Thor grinned. "You've made my point for me quite well."

Thor then turned and began walking away, still chuckling under his breath, and Loki gritted his teeth. He was so immensely and immeasurably tired of this.

A lifetime's worth of jests and ridicule rose up to fester in Loki's mind. All the times he'd heard someone mock his skill in magic - _a woman's art_, they'd say. Or when they'd question his gender under their breaths - _those cheekbones, that strange hair, that slight frame; perhaps he is actually the daughter Odin never wanted!_

It was all preposterous, of course. But centuries and centuries of listening to it tended to have a draining effect. Especially when the ridicule came from the mouth of his own brother.

"Brother."

Thor turned, still grinning. "Yes?"

"One week from today. Noon. In the main arena."

Thor's grin widened. "I'll be there."

Loki pushed away the instant gut feeling that he'd just done something incredibly stupid and stomped away.

The shift he'd felt earlier within him was growing. The panic was staying strong. Anger was slowly rising to join it.

* * *

Aemilia awoke later in the day than she normally would, for several reasons. The first was that she had no obligations to tend to today, so she had the luxury of sleeping in if she wanted to, and the second was due to the odd night she'd had last night.

She had been back from her trip for a few weeks now, but Loki didn't seem to have felt that he'd made up for their lost time yet. The night prior, after sending her home to promptly pass out from exhaustion, she had awoken maybe two hours later to kisses on her neck and a hand sliding down her stomach. Half asleep as she was, she didn't push him away or question him, but let him have his way. She wouldn't have begrudged him just taking his pleasure and leaving, since she had been eager to get back to sleep at first, but he stubbornly made sure that she came with him in the end. Then, when it was over, he hovered over her, smiled and chuckled before kissing her goodbye and vanishing.

With that kind of behavior, she wondered how long it would be until he started insisting she stay overnight with him. She certainly wouldn't have objected to such an idea.

But, as it was, their relationship seemed stuck at the current point of progress, and she didn't expect that to change. She hurt when she was with him and she hurt when she was without him; he was the embodiment of pain, and of all of the things that made pain worth withstanding.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him, and sometimes she almost did, but logic would always stop her in the end. No good could come from such a confession.

And so, she went about her days, caught somewhere between the wide perimeters of apathy and hysteria, waiting for the end to come and seal her fate that had little choice but to accept. Today was the same, and she went robotically - and sorely - about her morning routine before dressing and venturing downstairs.

She did not expect to find her mother sitting quietly, and alone, at their vast dining room table, clutching a small bit of paper in a clenched fist and crying with her head bowed.

Ayre crying was a rare sight, indeed, being a woman of strength and confidence, but crying of this nature - shoulder-trembling, quiet but deep sobs that wracked her chest - was simply unprecedented. Aemilia lingered in the doorway of the dining room, watching in confusion and concern, until she could remain quiet no more.

"Mother?"

Ayre snapped her head up then, quickly wiping at her face and clearing her throat. "Oh, Aemilia. You're finally awake."

"What happened? Is it Father?"

"No, no," Ayre shook her head, taking the paper in her hand and shoving it into a pocket in the skirt of her dress. "He's perfectly fine. Already left for the day."

Aemilia stepped forward, concern still etched on her face as she pressed, "I've not seen you cry like this since... possibly never. What's happened?"

"Just..." Ayre sighed and stood up from the table, swiping under her eyes again, "It's nothing to worry yourself with, Aemilia. An old friend of mine died a few days ago, and I just received word of it. Nobody you ever had the chance to meet."

Aemilia watched as another wave of tears glazed over her mother's eyes, as if triggered by her last sentence, but she held it back with a slight choking sound. "Mother..."

Quickly, Ayre grasped her daughter's hands and forced a smile. "I am fine, darling. Truly."

Aemilia paused skeptically before eventually nodding. She wanted to get her hands on that letter and see what really had her mother so torn apart.

"While you were sleeping, news swept through the land. Prince Thor is to become King in three months' time."

Aemilia blinked a few times. "Oh... really?"

"Yes," Ayre nodded. "I suspect the celebrations are what you're preparing to sing at. It's a great honor. I'm proud of you, darling."

Ayre then hugged her, tighter than she had in a very long time, and Aemilia's confusion deepened. She also wondered how Loki was taking the news. He'd never said or done anything in her presence to indicate he'd be upset by his brother taking the throne, but they'd also never discussed anything regarding such a matter either. The thought made her frown - she'd spent so much time with the Prince and yet discussed with him so little, and somehow she'd still managed to fall in love with him.

Ayre drew away and patted Aemilia's cheek before taking a breath and plastering a smile on her face. "Dagr is coming for dinner tonight. Come, help me prepare the house."

Stifling a groan, Aemilia grabbed a piece of fruit from the table and then moved to follow her mother. Today was going to be a strange day.

* * *

Loki grinned and ducked down as Lady Sif swiped through the air with her double-edged spear, sending a low kick towards her ankle just before she danced away just in time to avoid it. He advanced on her and swung his dagger towards her chest and she bent backwards, the blade missing her by an inch, and she retaliated by springing back up and striking back, this time with a fist to his face.

The punch connected, and Loki smiled after his head jerked with the impact. "I almost forgot how hard you hit, my lady. I like it."

"And I like it when you keep your mouth shut," she retorted, aiming another swipe of her spear his way but he twisted out of its path, then landed a kick to her shin. She grunted and lunged for him again, and a dizzying blur of blades and limbs was all anyone could see for a few long moments.

Watching nearby, Thor crossed his arms and remarked, "Sif will triumph, I am sure of it."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Fandral said, leaning casually on the handle of his sword. "Loki has her on the defensive. That in itself is no small feat."

"He moves with more grace than she, I daresay," Volstagg chimed in. "I keep losing track of who is the lady and who is the prince!"

Thor laughed, and Fandral said, "Oh, well, that's easy. They both may be frighteningly graceful with glorious manes of raven-colored hair that frame equally delicate faces, but only one of them bears the curves and shape befitting a goddess of war."

Thor gave Fandral a sidelong look and said, "Delicate faces? You find my brother to be graceful and in possession of a delicate face?"

Fandral shrugged. "It still pains me to no end that one of the most beautiful maidens I've ever laid eyes on in all the Nine Realms was actually Loki in female form."

Thor laughed heartily. "Now _that_ was one of my brother's better pranks. The look on your face when the woman in your lap transformed back into Loki!"

"I nearly kissed her - _him_!" Fandral spat. "I will live with the memory of that horrific moment until my dying day!"

"Look!" Volstagg suddenly said, and the three men turned their attention back to the scuffle in front of them,

Loki had disarmed Sif of her spear and she had kicked his dagger from his hand, so they were now locked in fully hand-to-hand combat. It appeared for a moment that Sif had gained the upper hand, knocking Loki down to his knees with a kick to his gut, but he stayed down only long enough to grab a blade that he knew she kept hidden in her boot. He then sprang back to his feet and grabbed her wrist when she struck at him, then twisted her arm behind her back and slammed her back against his chest with her own knife pressed to her throat.

"Losing your touch, my lady?"

Sif rolled her eyes and Loki released her, holding her knife out for her to take back as she glared at him. He merely smirked and jerked his head back slightly to flip a few wayward strands of hair out of his eyes.

"You got lucky," she said, snatching the knife back and turning to walk away.

He picked his dagger off the ground and sheathed it, glancing up towards his brother and the Warriors Three before the sight of Odin watching over from a terrace above caught his attention. He caught the All-Father's gaze and decided to go and have a word with him, even if it would ruin the slightly good mood that besting Sif had put him in.

He and Thor shared a friendly but competitive grin as he walked by, and Loki tried not to be annoyed by how much Thor was looking forward to giving his little brother a public beating. Not that he wouldn't thoroughly enjoy it if the fight went the other way, but that was entirely different. And unlikely.

A few moments later, he joined his father on the terrace, glancing out over the arena as Thor began sparring with Hogun and Fandral. Odin was the first to speak.

"Your skills have improved. I'm glad to see it."

Loki's eyes widened slightly, unprepared for a compliment. "Yes, well... I find that I learn better on my own, without taking Mjolnir to the face at every turn."

"This fight that you and your brother have planned," Odin said, Gungnir clasped firmly in his hand as he spoke. "I do not approve. The family needs to present an image of unity in this time of change. This fight, while frivolous, does not aid that image."

"I can speak to Thor, perhaps he will cancel -"

"No," Odin interrupted, still not sparing his son a glance as he watched the arena. "The interest in the fight is high; it will proceed as planned." It was during this brief pause that Odin finally turned his eye to Loki. "Thor cannot appear weak in any sense, Loki. Not now. Not when he is to take the throne in mere months."

Odin did not need to elaborate for Loki to understand the implication. He wanted to laugh, to shake his head and let his tongue loose, fully express his incredulity at being told to effectively throw the fight just so the future King would not appear so weak as to be bested by his trickster brother.

But, perhaps he should take it as a sign of respect. That Odin felt the need to tell him such a thing suggested that he thought Loki defeating Thor was a possibility. Could it be?

"Are we clear?"

Loki didn't falter. "Perfectly clear, Father."

"Good."

Odin then turned his attention back to the arena, and Loki turned to walk away, a light smirk on his lips as he did.

He was going to fight Thor twice as hard now.

* * *

After a day spent observing her mother's continued odd behavior, Aemilia retreated to her room to change before dinner and prepare herself for an evening spent with her intended. She hadn't seen much of him in the last week - it had been nice.

She used the time alone to practice magic, which was how she spent every moment alone; instead of grabbing a dress from her wardrobe, she levitated it and let it float behind her as she sauntered to the large stand mirror in her room. Simple things like that, she was becoming more and more comfortable with, barely having to think about it to do it. Other things, like vanishing items and having them reappear elsewhere, was more tricky, and she was still working on the mechanics of it.

The dress that she chose was a deep burgundy and had a high neck, which was extremely necessary today. After she peeled off the dress she was currently wearing, she eyed the marks that littered both sides of her neck with a resigned distaste. Regardless of how many times she admonished him to stop leaving her like this, he would not stop, and she would be in no state to stop him when he was making the marks. But it was getting ridiculous - they were taking longer to fade these days, for some reason, and she only had so many dresses with high necks.

In any case, she pulled the new dress on and then threw her hair up in a twist on the back of her head before waving her hand over it and smoothing down any stray hairs with magic. That, she learned from Loki, not his book.

When she ran out of reasons to piddle about, she sighed and left her room, descending the stairs and hoping the evening would pass by quickly. But her thoughts were interrupted when she realized that the house had gone deadly silent while she'd been in her room - and apparently also vacant.

"Mother?" she called, stepping through the dining room and then the sitting room, finding nobody and nothing, not even a servant present.

She gave the house another walk-through to be safe, then ventured towards the back, where her mother's gardens lay. She was starting to become truly concerned just as she set down the stone path that weaved through the gardens, but then the sight that she happened upon stopped her dead in her tracks.

Her mother, father, all of their servants, Dagr in his full guardsman garb, even his own mother and father, all there in the middle of the garden, all waiting for her, all wearing expectant and excited expressions.

Her heart sank. She knew full well what this was.

She watched it unfold as if she were outside of her body, floating above the scene and observing, not actually participating herself. She watched as Dagr smiled nervously at her and quickly approached her, then dropped to one knee to begin the proposal that was entirely symbolic and not at all a true question that she could answer yes or no to.

"My lady," he said, taking both of her hands in his as she stared down at his blankly. "My beautiful lady. Will you give me the privilege this day of promising to be my wife?"

She'd never hated Dagr until that moment. Until then he'd always been a mere nuisance, something that she knew she wouldn't escape but could distract herself from until they were truly betrothed. Now that it was happening, she suddenly resented the very air he breathed, and she wanted nothing more than to snatch her hands away and leave him there, kneeling and looking a fool.

Her eyes flickered up to her mother for a split second. Ayre looked so happy that it made Aemilia's stomach turn. She looked back down, back at Dagr, and for a moment, she thought she would say no.

Refusing would mean disobeying the law. Other maidens who had dared to do what she considered had all been banished, disowned, stripped of their titles, sometimes all three. She'd heard of some forced to live the life of a servant just to feed themselves. Others sold their bodies for currency.

Would Ayre force her daughter into such an existence, simply for refusing to marry this man? Aemilia didn't know. She expected banishment, perhaps not disownment, but she could be wrong - she would be bringing shame and dishonor on the family with her disobedience, and Ayre's value on society and how it perceived her could not be underestimated.

Then a pang struck her heart. From this moment on, if she did not refuse, she could not have Loki without committing adultery. That in itself was also a crime, but beyond that, it wasn't something that she desired any part of. But what would be worse, a life without Loki or a life spent unable to look at herself in the mirror without cringing?

But, as always, before she could say no, the decision was made for her. Dagr slid a ring on her left hand - gold band, large, square ruby in the middle - and her eyes widened as she looked down at the thing as it sat on her finger.

It was so wrong. All of it was completely and utterly wrong.

"I promise you, Aemilia," Dagr whispered, rising to his feet and taking her face in his hands, "I will make you happy."

Panic rose in the split second it took him to kiss her. It was a close-mouthed kiss, one-sided as she just stood there as still as a statue, feeling herself begin to split apart inside.

The kiss felt like a betrayal, both to herself and the only other man who'd ever had her lips. It also felt like a promise, one of a lifetime of more just like it - empty, obligatory, and devoid of anything but resentment and apathy.

He drew away and she made no effort to smile or show a single sign of emotion, negative or positive. Both sets of parents began cheering and Aemilia tried not to cringe at the sound, nor the way she got swept up in a multitude of hugs a moment later.

The same surreal, out of body feeling lingered throughout the night, through the celebration that went on all around her and yet barely involved her. The sadness that had been in Ayre's eyes all day was mostly replaced by joy that Aemilia almost envied - she wished she could be happy for herself, but all she felt was misery and a growing sense of self-loathing that kept reminding her that this was all her fault.

If she hadn't gone and been rebellious, tasted something that wasn't hers and would never be hers, she wouldn't be feeling like this. Would she be as desperately happy as Ayre was over the proposal, had she never had Loki? No, but she suspected that she would have simply resolved to make the most of it and been happy that she'd been paired with a rare man who would not dictate her personal choices. She would certainly not be sitting there, next to Dagr at her parents' table, drinking down a glass of wine like it was water, feeling her stomach twist into a sickening knot at the thought of how she was going to tell Loki tonight that their affair was over.

She was tempted to drink an entire bottle of wine, but she needed to keep her wits about her for that upcoming conversation. Refusing him was going to be damn near impossible enough - she didn't need to be anymore vulnerable than she already was.

She listened to the chatter as it flowed up and down the table without her participation, and while the two mothers present spoke of nothing but wedding plans that made her skin crawl, Dagr and her father spoke of state business, palace affairs, and the upcoming public sparring match between the two Princes in one week's time. It was the only thing she heard the entire night that interested her.

Loki would be coming to her tonight, after his brother's coronation being announced and after it was announced that he would soon publicly battle his hammer-wielding, rather larger brother. And _this_ was the night that she would be telling him that she would no longer be his lover.

She drank a second glass of wine in one long gulp. What an utterly abysmal day.

* * *

It was late when the celebration finally ended. Aemilia dragged herself up to her room, feeling a bit warm from her moderate drink consumption but still able to think perfectly clearly. It wasn't doing a lot for her courage, however, as she walked through her bedroom doors and closed them behind her.

She stood near the foot of her bed, not moving, and waited, thinking. A cold chill behind her was the only warning she had before she felt a single finger pull down the high neck of her dress to make room for lips to brush against her skin.

She closed her eyes, already fighting tears. How was she ever going to live without this?

He placed a kiss on her jaw before reaching for her left hand to grasp it as he vanished them to his rooms. Just before they disappeared, she felt his thumb brush over her ring. When they reappeared in his the middle of his bedroom, he was holding her hand up to examine it, and at first she couldn't bear to look behind her to see how he was looking at the offensive item.

But finally, she did turn her head and glance furtively to him. His face was unreadable, eyes betraying nothing as he released her hand and turned her around to face him. "You will take that off before I come for you from now on."

She didn't know why she was so surprised by his nonchalant attitude. She shouldn't have expected anything else.

He leaned forward, his intent clear, and she took a step back. His eyes snapped up to hers, looking confused for a moment before his blank look settled back over his features. He tried again, this time shooting his hand into her hair and trying to pull her to him that way, but she resisted and turned her head when he tried to kiss her.

Tears were stinging her eyes but she kept them at bay, staring at his bookshelves to keep from looking at him. His hand stayed in her hair and she could feel his gaze upon her hardening.

"Is this supposed to be some sort of jest?" he asked, voice low, a slight bit of danger coloring his tone. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Look at me."

She obeyed, eyes shining as she did. "I can't do this anymore. I won't. I won't, Loki."

His carefully maintained mask slipped at those words, and she saw panic flit across his face. Anger she would have expected, or even mocking derision, but she wouldn't have anticipated panic.

But, as soon as it had appeared, it was replaced by anger. "Is that so."

She tried to pull away, but his grip on her hair tightened and she stopped struggling to avoid causing herself pain.

"Do you think it is truly that easy to walk away from me when I'm not finished with you yet?"

She frowned and met his glare head-on. "I refuse to lose what morality I have left. I cannot - will not - give myself to you when I am promised to another."

His stare became angrier, harder, and a slight thrill of fear passed through her as she suddenly realized that she had no idea what kind of reactions he was capable of. When he released his grip on her hair and looked away from her, a wholly unhumorous smile on his face as he laughed and strode past her, the knot in her stomach tightened.

"What an interesting time to suddenly develop a moral code," Loki mused, sliding a hand along the surface of his desk as he slowly walked past it.

"It is not sudden," she said, eyes on his back. "It has never been my intention to... carry on once I was betrothed."

He didn't turn, so she couldn't see his face as her words wafted through his ears. He was silent for a long time, not moving but for the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed.

Finally, he spoke, still not turning, one hand resting on the desk. "Come here."

The words made her heart lurch. She wanted to obey so badly, but she refused to. She could not lose more of herself to him than she already had.

She merely shook her head, knowing he couldn't see the gesture, but unable to say the words.

"_I said come here!_" he suddenly screamed, his green-glowing fist striking the center of his desk and sending it splintering and shattering to the floor in pieces. She jumped and let out a little yelp of surprise when it happened, then covered her mouth with her hands and felt herself begin to tremble when he turned around.

There was a darkness in his eyes, something that she'd seen only tiny glimpses of before but was on full, terrible display now. It was desperation and fear and anger. It was the rage of a man who refused to give up what he believed to be rightfully his, despite his lack of a true claim on it.

She steeled herself, dropping her hands from her mouth and holding herself up as straight as she could as she finally replied, "No."

She expected him to scream again, but instead his voice dropped to an intimidating calm as he came strolling slowly towards her. "You would let your tongue tell me no, while the rest of you is screaming yes?"

"I already gave you my reasoning for this, Loki," she said, taking a step back as he came closer.

"And it is a poor reason," he replied.

Grasping at any and everything that popped into her head, Aemilia continued to step backwards as he continued to advance. "I will not be untouched anymore - why would you still even want me?"

"He hasn't touched you yet," Loki pointed out as she ran out of room to retreat to. Her back hit the front of a bookshelf, and he placed a hand on the shelving next to her head, leaving precious little space between them. Something flashed in her eyes then, something that looked a lot like guilt, and Loki's eyes widened fractionally as he hissed, "_Has he?"_

"He... when he proposed, he kissed me, but -"

She heard more splintering and breaking of wood, this time behind her head as she squeezed her eyes closed and automatically shrunk away from the sound. One shelf dislodged at one of its ends and crashed down on top of the next, spilling books to the floor near their feet. The hand that wasn't trying to break his bookcase grabbed her chin and forced her to look back at him, and he seethed, "You should have lied to me."

Tears had escaped her eyes, she suddenly realized, and she decided that she did not like the way that she was handling this at all. Yes, she was frightened, and yes, Loki was undoubtedly dangerous like this, but she did not believe that he would hurt her on purpose. She knew she could be wrong about that, but either way, she now needed to let out a wave of frustration on her own.

"And you should have stopped this from happening!" she snapped, raising her voice and looking fearlessly into his eyes while smacking his hand away from her chin. "If you wanted me half as badly as you claim, all you had to do was court me - publicly - and my parents would have happily allowed it. But you didn't. Not once have you expressed the slightest interest in keeping me from marrying him, not once."

"Not once have you expressed a desire for me to!" he retorted.

She looked up at him, incredulously, before uttering in a much smaller voice, "Do you not know? Am I not pathetically obvious enough in my emotions for you to grasp what you've become to me?"

He looked at her in what appeared to be genuine surprise before his eyes fell back into being unreadable.

"I despise him for taking me from you," she admitted. "And I despise myself for wanting so badly to cast my conscience aside and let you do with me as you please, but I will not give in to that desire. I will not. You had so much time to truly make me yours and you did not."

The next words out of his mouth made her anxiety spike. "If this is truly how you feel, _my lady_, and you will not waver in your decision, then you leave me with very few options."

"Options for what?" she asked warily. There was a cool calculation to his eyes and voice now, and somehow it was more terrifying than his rage.

"Perhaps I will arrange for your betrothed to meet an untimely demise." He grinned as her eyes widened. "It would solve both of our problems, would it not?"

"How can you speak of such a thing so... casually? With a smile on your face?" she asked, something akin to disgust on her face.

He shrugged, then added, "Then perhaps you ought to rethink your refusal to have me while he lives. You wouldn't want to have his blood on those pretty little hands of yours."

His words sunk in and left her speechless for one long moment while she stared at him in disbelief. Finally she shoved at him and he allowed it. She slipped out from between him and the bookcase and gritted her teeth as she said, "You are a manipulative snake!"

His chuckle from behind her made her blood boil. "You are hardly the first to say so."

She then turned, now a safer distance away from him, and spat, "I will not succumb to your threats. And if you cause the slightest bit of harm to befall him, I will hate you for the rest of my days. I promise it."

He shrugged, maddeningly. "Perhaps. But would you resist me as you are now?"

She just stared at him, unable to figure out how to handle these words and how he was acting. "I do not understand why you are acting and speaking like this."

He laughed again, and she decided that she never wanted to hear this particular laugh of his ever again. "Oh, come now, Aemilia. Let's not pretend that your interest in me was sparked because I am _good_ and _kind_ and _gentle_. No, what was it you said, that first night? You said that I was 'dark and fascinating'. Darkness is more than just a mere shade."

"No, but this is different," she said, glancing at his desk that he'd shattered as if it had been made of glass. "Is... is this all because of your brother taking the throne?"

It was the worst thing she could have possibly said. She barely had time to register the terrifyingly blank look on his face before she suddenly found herself pinned to the wall, pressed there by a hand to her throat. There was no pain from his hold, only the crystal clear message of dominance that he was so desperately trying to cling to.

"Do not speak of what you do not know, girl," he growled, so close his lips nearly brushed hers as he spoke.

She refused to be intimidated any longer and looked to him defiantly. "If it is your plan to force my submission to you then get on with it."

He chuckled through his nose and cupped her cheek with his free hand. "I do not force. I _persuade_."

"And this is how you would persuade me?" she asked with slightly wide eyes. "And what if you did? You would toy with me and torment me and use me until there was nothing left of me, until I hated you as much as I hated myself. If you care for me, if any part of you at all cares for me, you will let me go."

"I am selfish, my lady - my very nature is one of selfishness and greed. Do not underestimate it."

She opened her mouth to answer him but then the hand at her throat tore through the neck of her dress and yanked it down, and then his lips were there, urgent and familiar as they tasted her marked skin, and she closed her eyes tightly and put a hand in his hair.

She gripped a handful of the soft locks and tugged at him as she softly pleaded, "Stop."

He didn't stop. She opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, ignoring the shivers running down her spine as he sucked her sensitive skin, finding and using every bit of willpower that she had within her to pull harder on his hair and successfully yank him away.

"I said stop," she said firmly, looking him dead in the eye. When he did nothing but stare back, eyes betraying another flicker of panic throughout his being, she added quietly, "I'm sorry."

The way that he looked at her, his sudden dejection and realization that he couldn't persuade her, was almost enough to break her resolve. If he had waited a few moments, perhaps pleaded with her one last time, it might have been enough to break her resolve, if only for a moment or two.

But, he didn't. The sadness in his eyes passed and faded to anger again, and he set his jaw as he stepped back and pulled her with him by her arm. Then he let go and grasped the hair at the back of her head, and she felt the familiar pull of being sent back to her room.

This time, he didn't go with her. Instead, he let go of her with a shove halfway there and she fell to her bedroom floor with a thud. She looked around, catching her breath, and once she realized that she was alone, the tears that she'd been fighting so hard came flooding through her eyes. There was no point in fighting anymore, no reason to appear strong in solitude, so she scooted back until her back hit the side of her bed and drew up her knees to her chest as she gave in.

In that moment, for the first time since the affair had begun, she regretted ever sparing the Prince a second glance.

* * *

He stood in his room, alone, silent, unblinking, staring at the slight destruction that had befallen the chamber.

It wasn't enough.

A chair and another pair of shelves met an early end at his hand, and Loki was not entirely unaware that he was throwing a tantrum like a child. He simply did not care. It felt good to expel his anger like this, so he continued until it no longer served to take the edge off of his rage.

Everywhere he looked in the room, he saw a memory. At his door, he saw Aemilia pressed to it with her arm bound by magicked silk, from their first night together. At the walls between his bookshelves, tantalizing memories of her demanding that he take her against them, rough and hard. At his couch, a memory of her sweet eyes looking up at him as her mouth sinfully wrought one of the most memorably exquisite releases of his life. At his bed, countless memories that were too numerous to count (though he could, if he set his mind to the task), but the one that floated to the surface first was of him lying in her arms, eyes closed as she sang a child's song to him. His insides wrenched at the recollection.

It was revolting to him, feeling as he did, allowing these memories to assault his mind as they were. This was not how he operated. This did not make sense. He did _not_ need her.

But, as he stared at the dust swirling through the air before his eyes as a result of the piles of fractured wood, his own lies rang painfully hollow in his mind. Unwelcome truth taunted him as an enemy.

He _did_ need her. He was far, _far_ from ready to part with her. He could not lose her, not now. Especially not now.

And yet, he had.

_If it is your plan to force my submission to you then get on with it._

He winced at the memory of those words, sinking down to the edge of his bed to sit as he stared in thought. When she'd spoken those words, a horribly vivid image had sprang forth in his mind. He was not proud of how he had almost considered it for a moment, picturing pinning her on her hands and knees on his floor, making her give in despite her own sudden morality, unable to resist her own response to something as base as what that would have been. They would have both walked away hating themselves, and perhaps that was why he'd let the idea go as soon as it had came.

But it would have been easy. She would have said no, pleaded for him to stop, begged for him to let her go. She would have cried in dismay before her tears and pleas began to fade under an onslaught of forced pleasure. He would not have let her go until she screamed his name in ecstasy, loud enough to wake all of sleeping Asgard to hear. She would have hated him for it, but he would have proven his dominion over her. He would have proven that she could only say no for so long before she would always give in to him.

But it wouldn't have been enough, and in the end, it would have only proven _her_ hold over _him_, showing in frightening detail just how far he had fallen.

It wasn't the first time that his own knee-jerk, poorly conceived reactions -whether acted upon or not - had left him feeling disgusted with himself, and he knew it wouldn't be last. But his own now-glaringly obvious attachment to the girl disturbed him even more.

The idea that it was his fault, in the end, was unbearable. That he'd let her slip through his fingers before he had the chance to realize how he would feel once she was lost to him was unthinkable.

Yes, he'd known that she cared for him, had affection for him. He also knew that, somewhere along the way, he'd begun to care for her as well, far more than he should. But he'd still expected to grow tired of her far in advance of her engagement. He'd expected her to tire of him and his suffocating presence as well.

But neither expectation had come to pass. And now, he was alone in a bedroom that he'd all but laid waste too, staring at the void left by his now ex-lover, feeling her absence deeply down in his being, in a place no woman had ever reached before.

The necessary course of action was clear. Forget her. Expel her from memory, from thought, from his very soul. She was poison - sweet, beautiful, decadent poison - and he was better off without her.

He didn't sleep that night. He wondered when he'd ever be able to sleep again.

**A/N: heh... angst. *ducks and hides* Not really a lot to say here today besides my usual thanks to all you guys, and to midnightwings96. Yeah, I'm weirdly not as rambly as I usually am, so I think I'll just leave this here and... slowly walk away... whistling. :) Hope you guys enjoyed this slice of dat angst. :D**


	10. Chapter 10

The first morning after she ended her affair with Loki, Aemilia awoke from a fitful, terrible sleep and went about her morning robotically. Her ring felt like a heavy, burdensome weight on her hand, and her sadness an even greater one on her heart, but she managed to not burst into tears until after her bath. When she went to her sink to mix together her daily contraceptive herbal potion, she realized she no longer needed the drink, and the floodgates opened, leaving her to cry ferociously until she was drained.

She still had all of her mementos of their time together, sketches she knew she'd never finish, his book of magic that sat ominously in her drawer, almost like a cruel joke. In her lowest moments, she almost didn't think she wanted to learn magic anymore. It would only remind her of him, of his creative ways of teaching and testing her, and how he would be doing neither of those things ever again. But her magic had been something of a gift from him, something that she never thought she would have, and it was too precious a thing to let go to waste.

Going about her days without letting the sadness show was nearly impossible, but she wore her mask well, better than her mother did. Ayre looked as sad as Aemilia felt, and she still caught traces of tears on her mother's face from time to time. She was just too caught up in her own problems to investigate the still-unknown source of her tears.

She went to the palace twice in the next week to rehearse for what would be Prince Thor's pre-coronation party. It would be a huge, grand event at the palace, and would begin the first round of celebrations that would eventually extend well beyond the coronation itself. To sing at the opening of such a celebration was a mind-boggling honor, but the excitement of rehearsals was tempered by her fear of running into the source of her pain while she was there.

She didn't, but just knowing that he was near, somewhere in that huge palace, made it feel as if his presence was looming, reaching out from the shadows to taunt her.

It would have been easy to fall apart and succumb to the horrible, constant ache in her chest, but she refused to stop living simply because the consequences of her actions had caught up with her. She put a fake smile on her face and persevered.

When her days turned to nights, she would escape to her room, curl under her blanket and study the magic book. She would stare at the handwritten notes and her mind would drift, imagining him sitting at his desk with this very book, quill in hand, scrawling the notes with a look of utmost seriousness on his pale face. She'd think of how his hand would have looked, curled around the quill, then let her mind wander to how his hands felt, how they moved, how they touched... how they felt when he'd grabbed her hair in anger and literally threw her back to this very room when she had ended things.

Eventually, she would sleep, and sometimes it would be deep, dreamless sleep wrought from mental exhaustion. Other times it would be restless and miserable, full of dreams that she didn't want, and when morning arrived, it would be a bittersweet relief.

The day that Asgard's Princes were set to publicly fight in the palace arena was to be an eventful day for Aemilia - she had a rehearsal in the morning, and Ayre was throwing her and Dagr an engagement party that evening. She did not know whether she wanted to watch the fight or not, and tried not to pay it much thought as she arrived at the royal music rooms with her vocal instructor early that morning.

Singing was a reprieve from it all. It had always been a refuge, ever since she was young and discovered that she had the gift of song, and even here, in the home of the lover who plagued her every thought and every breath, she felt at peace as she sung.

The music room was grand, opulent, filled with instruments of every sort and large enough to fit an entire orchestra in. She had been here before, back when she was preparing for that fateful first time she had sang at the palace, and it was no less impressive and daunting now than it was then. The Queen would forever have her eternal gratitude for affording her such extraordinary opportunities.

And as if the thought had triggered her presence, after Aemilia had taken a break and was sipping from a goblet of water, the door to the grand room opened and there stood Frigga, in all of her elegance, smiling warmly as she entered.

"I thought I heard a particularly lovely voice echoing through these walls," she said, her easy tone immediately relieving any anxiety Aemilia may have initially had. "How are you this morning?"

She bowed lightly and smiled as she replied, "I am well, my Queen. Thank you once again for this incredible privilege."

The Queen nodded gracefully to and then did the same as she also greeted Aemilia's instructor. After, she turned and took both of Aemilia's hands in her own and said, "Might I steal you for a few moments?"

"Of course," she replied, a bit of her anxiety creeping back to the surface as Frigga led her in a turn about the room. The first thing the Queen did was lift one of her hands and make an almost lazy gesture with it, and the air around them shimmered and rippled for a moment before returning to normal.

"The palace has many ears," Frigga explained, answering the younger girl's quizzical look. "One can never take too many precautions to ensure that what is private remains private. If anyone should hear us speak, they will hear us discussing your upcoming performance and my thoughts on what sort of dress you should wear for it."

Aemilia smiled but wasn't sure what to say, so she waited for the queen to speak again.

"You are engaged now," she stated as they walked slowly past a row of brass instruments. "I did not hear of this until yesterday, but I've suspected as much for the last week. Loki refuses to speak of it, but his suffering is quite plain to me."

She wasn't sure if she should feel satisfied or saddened that she wasn't the only one who was miserable. But, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't quite gleam any pleasure from Loki's suffering. "I am sorry, my Queen."

"What possibly for?" Frigga laughed softly.

"For causing your son to suffer," she shrugged.

"I believe his suffering is of his own doing," Frigga said. "Unless I am wrong in assuming why you ended the... relationship."

Though she felt uncomfortable with this level of honesty - she would never get used to speaking to the Queen about this topic, that she was quite sure of - Aemilia drew a breath and said, "I ended it because I have no interest in adultery and I refuse to sink that low for anyone."

Frigga smiled. "And that only confirms to me that you are indeed a wondrous match for my son."

Aemilia looked at the Queen a bit dumbly for a moment before replying, "It's a moot point now, I'm afraid."

"For the moment," Frigga replied vaguely, a slight smile on her lips.

The Queen spoke as if she had knowledge of future events, and Aemilia knew she was of Vanaheim and therefore possibly had the gift of foresight. But before she could ask about it, Frigga spoke again.

"I am sure that you've heard of this fight my boys are putting on," she said, a slight roll of her eyes indicating how juvenile she thought it was. "Do you plan to watch?"

"Oh, I... I hadn't decided yet. I wasn't sure if it would be wise to go," Aemilia answered honestly.

"He misses you," Frigga said softly. "I think he would like it if you were there. Even if he'd never utter the words to admit it."

To be honest, Aemilia wasn't sure that she wanted to see him again, even from a distance, and certainly not while he was being beaten repeatedly with a hammer. But the way that the Queen was looking at her, like it would truly mean something to her if she came, stopped her from being able to do anything but acquiesce. "I will come."

"Good," Frigga smiled, patting her shoulder. "I will come and fetch you when it is time. For now, I'll leave you to your rehearsal."

Aemilia nodded, giving another curtsy as the Queen bade farewell. She had the distinct feeling that the Queen rarely, if ever, did not get what she wanted, and that was a trait that had unquestionably been passed to her son.

Taking a breath, Aemilia pushed aside thoughts of Loki that could wait until later, and got back to work.

* * *

"You look terrible, my son."

Loki nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around in front of his mirror to give his mother a half-hearted glare as she strolled towards him. "Next time, for the sake of my sanity, do remember to knock."

Frigga shrugged lightly, looking over her son in his full golden armor. "My apologies, dear. You look as if you haven't slept in days."

Loki sighed, glancing back at the mirror and finding himself unable to deny the obvious truth of his mother's words. Aside from the obvious source of his distress, Thor had been grating on his nerves purposefully in advance of their scheduled fight, and he was also behaving with more and more idiocy every passing day. The thought of the kingdom being passed into his moronic hands became increasingly unbearable, yet everyone else seemed to think his ascension was the best thing the realm had seen in centuries. Between the misery of his days and the unequaled torture of his nights alone, yes, he looked terrible, and no, he wasn't sleeping.

"The fight can always be rescheduled. Or cancelled."

"There will be nothing of the sort," Loki snapped, turning back to the mirror and running his hands through his hair. It was trying to curl at the ends, under his ear, rebelling against him as much as the rest of him was. He frowned at the odd curls and added, "Not that it matters. Were you aware that Father made it clear that I must ensure Thor's victory?"

Frigga sighed. "No. But I cannot say that I am surprised. Will you defy his wishes?"

Loki stilled his movements, looking at his mother's reflection in his mirror, raising an eyebrow. "Surely you know me well enough to already know the answer to that."

She smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to face her. "Indeed I do. And for what it is worth... though I find this fight to be juvenile at best... I say, do not hold back. Show the realm what I know to be true of its younger prince."

"Which is?"

"That you are more than great enough to cast your own shadow."

Loki gave her a small smile in return, though he didn't believe her for a moment. It was all good and well for her to tell him this, and indeed, she had been telling him similar things his whole life, but it meant little when she was the only one to say such things. If similar words ever slipped from Odin's lips, just once, it would have been enough, more than enough, to satisfy Loki's craving for his approval. But it had yet to happen. And as dearly as he loved his mother, at the end of the day, she was just that... his _mother_, who was obligated in a way to her son that a father was not. At least, that was what he believed to be true.

"Now," Frigga said, interrupting his thoughts, "let's get you looking battle-ready."

She placed her hands on either side of his head, and a glamour spell fell from her fingertips. He'd never had to use one on himself before, but as the warmth washed over him, his hair settled down against the nape of his neck, color returned to his face, and the darkness under his eyes disappeared. When he turned to survey the change, he was taken aback - he really had looked terrible before.

"There," she said, satisfied with her work. "Now, you must promise to take better care of yourself from this day forward. I will not have my son simply wither away as a result of his first heartbreak."

Her words made him twitch. He would have scoffed, but he didn't have the care to. Instead, words relating to something else entirely came tumbling from his lips. "Do you truly think he's ready to take the throne, Mother?"

"Oh, darling," she cooed, taking his hands in hers, "do not fret yourself with such thoughts. The All-Father believes Thor to be ready. He did not reach this decision lightly."

Loki wanted to scream in frustration - Frigga, for all of her considerable, admirable independence, still trusted Odin without question, as did all of Asgard. If Odin said Thor was ready, then they all believed wholeheartedly that it was so. Why could not any of them see the truth? Was Loki the only one capable of seeing the obvious?

"But Mother, he is -"

"Do not fret, Loki," she repeated, interrupting him. "Trust your Father's wisdom."

But that was just it - how could he trust Odin's wisdom when he was about to curse Asgard to the bumbling rule of an arrogant idiot?

Unaware of his inner struggles, Frigga smiled and released her light hold on him. "I've just come from visiting Lady Aemilia in the music room. If you wished to see her -"

"No," Loki muttered, turning away. "She made her choice quite clear. There's no reason to further discuss her."

"There is, if she is the cause of those dark circles under your eyes."

He gritted his teeth, staring at his feet. "It makes not a sliver of difference either way."

"I've never known you to be so quick to give up something so important to you so easily."

"Enough, Mother."

"Perhaps if you simply spoke to her -"

"_Enough_!" Loki snapped, the volume of his own voice shocking himself far more than it did Frigga. He looked away from her in sudden shame, but she didn't blink.

"I only want your happiness, Loki," she said softly, unbothered by his outburst. "Even when the greatest obstacle you face in finding it is yourself."

He said nothing in reply, frowning as she picked up his horned helmet from a nearby table. She held it out to him and he took it, meeting her eyes as she smiled, "Make me proud."

He nodded, letting his eyes drift down to the heavy gold he held in his hands only after she had left his rooms.

He didn't recognize the feeling of being stretched too thin, of being wound so tightly that he would surely snap under the slightest bit of pressure. If he had, however, he still wouldn't have done anything other than precisely what he did, which was place the helmet on his head and give himself another once-over before turning and heading towards the training arena.

* * *

It was hardly the first time that Aemilia had been to the arena; a favorite pastime of young maidens in the realm was flocking here to spend their afternoons to watch young, virile men spar and fight amongst each other, and she had been dragged here many times by friends in the past. It had been fun and frivolous then, as opposed to now.

The Queen fetched her as she'd promised, and as they'd made their way to the arena, Aemilia had suddenly wondered if she was going to be watching with both the King and the Queen. The thought brought a fresh wave of anxiety - watching with Frigga was one thing, but Odin was another entirely.

Her worries turned out to be in vain - Odin stood with a handful of men, whom Aemilia thought to be advisors, on one end of the arena, while she and Frigga took to the opposite end, on one of the higher levels of the structure to have a better vantage point. The arena was already quite packed, with both nobles and commoners, citizens all anxious for the bit of entertainment that they were about to be treated to.

Down on the arena floor, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif were doing some light sparring, as if they were something of a warm-up act before the main event. The sound of Gungnir hitting the ground from across the arena was their signal to leave and make way for the princes, so they did, taking places near the floor to watch as the crowd fell silent.

"Will he be able to use magic in the fight?" Aemilia asked the Queen in a hushed tone, eyes on the empty grounds.

"Yes. They bickered a bit about it at first, but I pointed out that Loki would need more than a mere weapon to stand a chance against Mjolnir. Thor eventually agreed."

"But if Loki wins, will people consider him to have cheated, using magic?"

"Most likely," Frigga replied. "But they would be wrong."

A sudden blow of a horn caught Aemilia's attention then, and the loud voice of a guard announcing the presence of Asgard's Princes. They entered the arena at the same time, from two opposite entrances at the north and south end; Thor looking as huge and majestic as ever in his silver armor and flowing red cape, his feathery helmet resting atop blonde hair that shone even from that considerable distance, and Loki, swathed in green and gold and walking tall under curved, sharp horns. Thor grinned and raised Mjolnir to the suddenly cheering crowd, laughing, and Loki kept a neutral face as a guard came scampering up to him, holding a long, thin object in his hands. Loki took the object, and Aemilia recognized it as a rather jagged looking spear, a long golden staff with a deadly curved blade at the end. He didn't wave it around or play to the crowd the way his brother did, but clutched it in one hand and let his eyes scan the arena.

She watched, unknowingly holding her breath, waiting for his gaze to meet hers. When it did, she felt her heart thud against her chest, but neither her face nor his betrayed anything. The only indication that he'd even recognized her was the fact that his eyes lingered on hers just moment too long.

But then there was another dull bang from Gungnir, and the crowd fell silent as the two young Princes came to a stop, a few feet away from each other, both grinning as they looked at one another. From her place, Aemilia could see both men's profiles, close enough to make out their expressions, which somehow managed to be both vicious and friendly at the same time - Thor more overtly threatening, Loki belying a more subtle confidence.

They gave one another an extremely slight bow - it was more like an incline of their heads - and then, a third and final signal from Odin began the fight.

She was close enough to hear Thor laugh as they moved, neither lunging for the other or making any other brash moves, just circling one another as the elder brother spoke. "Nervous, brother?"

"Are you?" was Loki's retort, his grip on the spear casual, almost unthinking.

Thor's answering laugh reverberated around the arena. "Because you're my brother, I'll show mercy and make this quick."

Thor then pulled his arm back and flung it forward, throwing Mjolnir and aiming for the center of Loki's chest, but instead of knocking the younger brother down, it merely flew straight through him. The image of Loki flickered and then disintegrated, and as Thor cast his confused eyes around wildly, Loki strolled up behind him. Like it was nothing, he tossed the spear up in the air and caught it by its handle, and just as Thor whirred around to face him, Loki whacked him across the face with the razor-sharp end, knocking Thor backwards and leaving a bright red slice across his cheek.

Aemilia jumped when it happened, and immediately looked at Frigga, but the Queen looked perfectly at ease. In fact, she was even smiling a little bit.

A loud metallic sound and an equally loud groan stole her attention, and Aemilia looked back to the arena floor to see Loki flying back, having been smacked in his gut with Mjolnir.

It only took a second for Loki to get back to his feet, all restraint thrown to the wind as the brothers fought, and the viciousness of it all shouldn't have shocked Aemilia, but it did. They were out for blood.

Thor was all blunt, merciless force, and Loki was like a gust of wind dancing gracefully but lethally about him. He ducked Thor's blows and landed little whacks and slices of his own, aiming strategically for the chinks in the elder brother's armor, but he took as many hits as he gave. They seemed surprisingly evenly matched, and she barely noticed how fast her heart was racing until Loki would get thrown on his back or kicked in the face, which would make her stomach fall into itself.

At one point, Thor struck Loki in the face with the wide tip of Mjolnir, which left an almost instantaneous deep purple bruise and also knocked Loki's helmet off in the process. Loki responded by conjuring a double behind Thor and then switching places with the copy - a handy trick - and brought the non-lethal end of the spear down against the back of Thor's head, briefly knocking him down to his knees. He repeated the trick numerous times, managing to confuse Thor every time, but he eventually decided to somewhat pull back on the magic, knowing that he'd be branded a cheater if he won based on magic alone.

The tide began to decidedly turn, however, when Thor, now bleeding from several more gashes on his face as well as a wound in his side and one of his legs, threw his hammer towards Loki's head. Loki deflected it with a green, shimmering blast from his hand, and - shockingly - the hammer bounced right off of the energy and went hurtling rapidly into the sky. Even Loki seemed slightly bewildered by this, but he wasted no time in taking advantage of the hammer's temporary absence, lunging at Thor and putting him fully on the defensive.

Aemilia glanced up to the Queen, only to find her smiling cheekily to the King, across the arena. One-eyed as he was, Odin saw his wife's self-satisfied grin through the distance and merely raised an eyebrow to her.

Aemilia understood perfectly in that moment the family dynamic. Thor, in all of his strength and power, was the apple of Odin's eye, his pride and joy. Loki, however, was Frigga's treasure, and while she surely loved both of her sons with an equal ferocity, Loki was nestled particularly close to her heart.

A loud thumping sound brought her attention back to the fight, and Aemilia held back a gasp when she saw Thor on his back, Loki looming over him with the edge of the spear to his neck.

* * *

Victory was close, so close that he could taste it. He'd exposed Thor's weaknesses and taken advantage of them, taken his punches and assaults and hit back just as hard, calling on every bit of skill that he'd acquired in all of his centuries, laying it all on the line for this moment. Disposing of Mjolnir had been a happy accident - the magic that had made it bounce into space was exhausting to expel but it had been more than worth it.

And now, against Odin's wishes, he had the future King of Asgard on his back, at his mercy, gasping under the unexpected force of the beating that he'd just taken. There was a distinct, richly satisfying look of sheer panic in Thor's bright blue eyes, and Loki couldn't help the smile that curled across his lips.

Perhaps now, in light of his victory, he could command a bit of respect as Thor's equal. Perhaps even Odin, once he got over his anger at Loki defying his orders, would see that Loki was also worthy, also powerful, also great.

"Do you surrender, brother?"

The words tasted good on his lips, and victory tasted even sweeter. It tasted so good, in fact, that when Thor looked away fractionally to glance up at the sky, he didn't think to jump out of the way until it was too late.

"Never."

Thor's hand enclosed around the newly returned Mjolnir, and he struck the ground with it. The entire arena shook with the force of it, and Loki was flung backwards, the spear flying from his grasp. He landed on his front with a loud, disturbing crunching sound, and he could not breathe or see. He was delirious with pain as Thor rolled him to his back, then dropped the hammer on his chest to ensure that he could not get up. Mjolnir's power kept him even from being able to conjure a double to switch with - it was, essentially, cheating.

It was with an arrogant, maddening grin that Thor threw Loki's words back in his face. "Do you surrender, brother?"

Blinking away dirt and dust from his eyes, Loki managed to clear his vision enough to glare up at his brother and feel something rising from within. There was anger, frustration, and disappointment, but those things he expected. There was something else, something worse, something that grew the longer he stared at Thor's smile.

With a laugh that made Loki's skin crawl, Thor picked up Mjolnir and extended a hand to Loki. He didn't want to accept the help, but the alternative - to appear petty and bitter in the face of defeat - was worse. With a half-snarl, he grasped Thor's bloodied hand and ignored the scream of pain throughout his body as Thor pulled him to his feet.

Thor apparently just couldn't help himself. "And this, Loki, is why _you_ are the trickster, and _I_ the warrior, who will be King."

With those words, Loki suddenly understood what it was that he was feeling. It felt like lava in his veins, burning through his very skin as he stared at Thor with an unhidden venom, a thousand years of slights and jealousy breaking through the surface of indifference that he could no longer maintain.

_Hatred_. It was pure, seething hatred. In that moment, he truly hated his brother, with a passion as deep as his love for him.

Loki yanked his hand away, a violent storm swirling inside of him as he watched Thor raise his arms in victory. The crowd, which had previously been watching in a stunned, deafening silence, slowly began to cheer for their future King, while Loki turned his eyes back to where they had last been before the fight had begun.

Aemilia wasn't clapping. She was watching him, looking concerned, worried, and a bit frightened as he met her gaze. Beside her, Frigga was clapping softly, her expression sympathetic and equally worried.

As Thor took a self-indulgent bow, Loki met Aemilia's gaze unapologetically harshly. His eyes were narrow and dark as a smirk crossed his lips, and he gave a bow of his own, though he directed it only to her and to nobody else in the crowd. When he raised his eyes back to hers, his hands clenched into fists and he could almost see her shudder from where he stood.

When he finally tore his murderous eyes away from her, he let them quickly scan the faces of the others, the commoners and the nobles, the strangers and "friends" that had watched the fight, and his hatred pulsed anew. How happy they were to see him submit to Thor, to be powerless under that stupid hammer, to validate Thor's status as unrivaled in strength and power.

_Idiots, fools, all of them_. They were blind, but he was not. The hatred was bizarrely liberating, and terrible thoughts were beginning to form in his mind.

It was as he stomped out of the arena that he decided to Hel with it all. Asgard may be filled to the brim with fools, but they would be ruled by the biggest dolt of all in an incredibly short amount of time. Loki was blessed - no, burdened - with eyes clear enough to see how terrible this was, and what else would a good Prince do but protect his kingdom?

His smirk grew. Oh yes, he would protect the kingdom. He would also have his revenge. He didn't know how yet, but he was going to ensure that Thor's "big day", when it came, crashed spectacularly around him. He would take his day of triumph and lay waste to it, and he would enjoy every last moment of Thor's resulting rage and distress. He would make sure that Thor's coronation was delayed, and in doing so, he would buy Asgard more time. Perhaps even convince Odin that Thor needed many centuries' worth of growth before he could be trusted to be King.

The convenient side effect of having the chance to ruin the biggest day of Thor's life was just a happy coincidence.

The only question was... how?

* * *

Aemilia could not shake the memory of Loki's last expression, no matter what she did.

She'd never seen him look like that before. It was even more jarring to see him like that after having watched him nearly overtake his brother, moving with such a lethal beauty that it was as terrifying as it was arousing. But that look... that smirk...

She could imagine being held to the ground by him, seeing that exact smirk on his face as he ripped her throat out from her body, so murderous and dangerous that look was. And the way that he'd directed it at her - she shivered every time she thought back on it.

She'd always known that Loki was dangerous. She just never knew exactly _how_ dangerous until that day.

Aemilia bade the Queen farewell soon after the fight concluded and returned home, thinking of nothing but Loki the entire way back. Even when she found her home to be already buzzing with activity and filled with friends, family and acquaintances all there to celebrate her engagement, she still could not shake what she had seen.

She was on autopilot, smiling and greeting her older and newer friends, kissing the cheeks of her fellow nobles, trying her best to keep the charade as convincing as possible when both Dagr and Ayre showed up to flank her. She showed off her engagement ring, watched her friends giggle and swoon over both the ring and the man at her side, and Ayre appeared to be so happy with it all that she was nearly in tears.

The entire time, Dagr kept an arm around her waist, and the longer he kept it there, the more it began to anger her. But, she told herself to get over it and get used to it, especially since soon, he would be doing far more to her than just having his hand on her side.

A little bit of wine always made everything easier, so she downed a cup while she continued to be mobbed. Just as she was about to ask a servant for more, the irritating hand on her waist tightened and she glanced up at her fiancé to find him gesturing towards a doorway. Reluctantly, she set her cup down, then allowed him to lead her away from the party.

He took her outside to the gardens, the same place he had proposed to her a week earlier. Despite her less than desirable company, Aemilia took a deep breath of the fresh, late afternoon air and immediately was relieved to be away from the party.

"You looked as if you could use a break," Dagr said, offering his arm to lead her on a walk.

She accepted, replying quietly, "Yes, I've had a rather busy day."

"You were at the palace today, yes?" When Aemilia nodded, he added, "You know, with both of our connections, I would wager that we could quite possibly gain approval from the royal family to wed in the palace. Not in the main hall, but certainly one of the smaller ones."

She could not think of a single place that she would _least_ like to wed Dagr in. If she didn't know any better, she'd suspect that he'd known about her secret all along and was now taunting her. "Oh, I don't know..."

"It's not a decision that we must make today," he smiled. She glanced up at him and nodded silently in return. "I do hope that as time progresses, our engagement becomes less foul to your perception."

"It's not -" she quickly sighed, then took a deep breath and said, "I do not believe I've given you any reason since your proposal to suspect that I consider anything to be foul."

"Yes, but I would like to see you genuinely happy, not just playing the part for mine or your mother's sake."

She was about to sigh and argue with him some more when he suddenly stopped them, standing in nearly the same spot in the gardens that he had proposed in. He turned to face her, his hand sliding down her arm to take hers, and he was so close that she was forced to look up into his eyes.

"You won't be happy if you never give me the chance to make you happy," he said softly, the hand that wasn't holding her own rising to rest on her cheek.

A familiar sense of panic began to take hold, and Aemilia knew what was coming next. She mentally braced herself, knowing she could react to the impending kiss one of two ways. She could either resist and flee, or she could accept that it was merely the first of many to come and try to make the most of it.

Ever the brave one, she opted for the second choice. She stood still and didn't move an inch, and her eyes were closed well before his lips touched hers. Once they did, however, she wished that she would have fled.

It was not a peck like their first kiss had been. He kissed her slowly, and increasingly deeply, and she tried her very best to endure it. But at the first tentative touch of his tongue against hers, memories flashed like fireworks in her head, all of Loki, all hitting her like a punch to the gut. She could think of nothing else, and grief washed over her anew, terrible, chest-aching grief that she could not suppress.

And for all of that pain, she knew that this was but the beginning. A long, long lifetime of pain worse than this lay in front of her, hundreds upon hundreds years of suffering this inferior touch, this laughably poor substitute to her true desires, and as she finally wrenched her lips away with half-choked sob that she couldn't contain, she suddenly understood that living this lie with this man would be every bit as soul-killing as becoming an adulterer would have been.

"I can't," she gasped, pushing him away by his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I only thought -"

"No," she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before opening them and looking at him in utter seriousness. "No, you don't understand. I cannot marry you. I've tried to do this, I've tried to accept this, but I cannot. And I will not. I will not marry you."

He shook his head. "You are speaking nonsense. Let us go back inside and -"

"No!" she half-shouted when he reached for her. "I am not hysterical and I am not speaking nonsense! I am completely serious!"

"But-"

"You're a good man, I truly do believe that," she said, utterly sincere. "And any other woman would be incredibly lucky to marry you. But I feel nothing for you and I never will. Marrying you would kill me."

She didn't mince her words because she wanted him to grasp the finality of them, and it appeared to work for a moment. He seemed crestfallen and shocked, but then he looked away, shook his head and said, "You don't know what you're saying."

With an exasperated sigh, she gave up and turned on her heel, moving back towards the house. The true obstacle in making her epiphany become a reality was her mother, but there was no turning back now - she knew she'd face banishment or worse for this, but she was now prepared to accept such punishment rather than live a lie for the next four thousand years.

Dagr followed her back into the house, continuing to plead with her to no avail. Once she was inside, she pushed her way through the guests and eventually found her mother in the main sitting room, clutching a glass of wine and laughing heartily amid a gaggle of other mothers. Aemilia squared her shoulders and marched up to Ayre, tapping her on the shoulder as Dagr tried to grab her hand and pull her away.

"_Stop it!"_ she snapped, yanking her hand away and glaring at Dagr before turning back to her mother.

Ayre looked between the two of them, confusion replacing her previous jolly expression. "Darling? What's happened?"

"I need to talk to you, alone, right now," Aemilia said, a small thrill of fear rushing through her as she spoke the words. Telling Dagr was one thing - telling her mother was entirely another.

"Can it not wait until later? The party -"

"The party needs to end," Aemilia said firmly as Dagr fidgeted behind her. "The guests need to leave."

"But darling -"

"Mother, please."

Ayre stared at her daughter, then glanced at Dagr, who merely looked at her helplessly. She seemed to grasp the importance of the situation and nodded, which led Aemilia to turn and head for the seclusion of her room.

She only had to wait for a few tense moments in her room before the door reopened and her mother slipped inside. "What is the meaning of all this?"

Aemilia stood before Ayre, her arms crossed, anxiety creeping upon her but not stopping her from saying what needed to be said. "I cannot marry him, Mother. I _will_ _not_ marry him. And if you wish to banish me or disown me because of my refusal, then so be it. I would rather suffer your wrath than spend my life married to a man that I will never love."

It all came out in a deceptively calm tone, but she didn't raise her eyes to meet Ayre's gaze until she had finished. When she did, she found her mother staring blankly, as if she were waiting for a punchline.

"Aemilia, I do not find this humorous."

"Does it appear that _I_ do?" Aemilia snapped, letting her arms fall to her sides. "You have known from the beginning my feelings about him, or the lack thereof, so how does this come as a surprise?"

"You are not thinking clearly," Ayre shook her head. "Clearly you've been working too hard as of late. Take a few days to rest and -"

Aemilia gritted her teeth. She hated it when Loki didn't take her seriously, hated it when Dagr didn't take her seriously, and she wanted to absolutely scream now that her own mother wasn't taking her seriously. "No. I need no rest. My mind is made up."

"So you will risk banishment? Disownment? You, who have never lifted a finger outside of your will your entire life? You know not what you speak of. I will have none of this. In fact, I am walking away and pretending this conversation never happened. He is a good man. He will give you a good life. You will marry him."

And that was that.

Aemilia watched her mother turn and reach for the door, knowing that she only had one last possible way to get through to her. She felt sick at saying the words, but it was what needed to be done.

"He will not take me if I tell him that I am no maiden."

Ayre's hand froze on the doorknob. Slowly she turned, her gaze icy. "You would lie to make him shun you?"

She smiled, and it was a sad, humorless smile. "It is no lie, Mother."

For the first time since the conversation began, a distinct emotion made its way on to Ayre's face. First shock, then a flicker of denial, and finally, anger. "Tell me this is a cruel jest."

For a split second, Aemilia suddenly felt very young again, a burst of shame nearly breaking her courage. But it was short lived - there could be no cowardice now. "I think you can see that I'm quite serious."

"You cannot possibly be serious," Ayre hissed, her gaze hardening even more. "If this is some trick so that you can get out of marrying him -"

"_Nine Realms_, Mother, what will it take for you to believe me?!" Aemilia asked in exasperation. "I am telling you the truth!"

"Is this why you've been acting so strange lately?" Ayre asked. "If its true, tell me who it is."

This was the only part of the truth that Aemilia wasn't planning on divulging, if she could do anything to prevent it, so she kept silent.

"Tell me!"

"Does it matter?" Aemilia retorted. "Whom it is changes nothing."

"I will not believe you until you give me a name."

"Why would I lie about this?" she asked incredulously. "I am not merely saying this. It's true. It has been true for months now, since before I even met Dagr."

"Since before..." Ayre's gaze drifted upwards as she thought back on recent months. "Since before you even met Dagr."

"Yes."

"And you have been carrying on with... whomever this man is, this entire time."

Aemilia swallowed dryly and muttered, "Yes."

Ayre laughed, without a trace of humor. Her hands rested on her hips, and her pretty face slowly began to contort into something much uglier. "Clearly this man cares not for you. Otherwise he would have asked for your hand as well."

"I know."

"Is he why you would refuse Dagr? Is it love? Do you love this man who you allowed to defile you?"

Tears prickled the backs of Aemilia's eyes, but she kept them at bay. "You can be as cruel as you want, Mother, I truly do not care any longer."

"I believe you!" Ayre said, her voice rising. "Obviously you care for nothing and no one but yourself! You have no idea the sacrifices I've made, the pain I've withstood, to give you what you're so impulsively throwing away."

"Then why don't you enlighten me?" Aemilia challenged. "You've been saying things like this for so long and yet I have no idea why."

"Honesty is quite the bold request when you are still not affording me the same courtesy."

"Fine!" Aemilia said, giving up. If they were to have it out, then so be it - and as much as she didn't want to confess this part, if it convinced Ayre to come clean herself, then it would be worth it. "I'll tell you exactly what happened, and with whom. Do you remember the first time I sang at the palace?"

"Of course."

She suddenly felt lightheaded as she sat on the cusp of delivering the full truth, but it didn't stop her. "I caught Prince Loki's eye that night. It's him. Or it was. I ended it when Dagr proposed."

For a second time that night, Ayre's expression became one of immense shock. "Prince Loki."

"Yes. I'm sure it makes it all seem far worse, knowing that I chose the _lesser Prince_," Aemilia spat, unable to control the bitterness in her voice. "I'm sure you would have some twisted sense of pride if I had 'defiled myself' with the future King instead."

Instead of expressing outrage or disgust at her words, Ayre merely stared off towards the floor, her eyes suddenly shimmering. Aemilia watched and waited, waited for a sign of a reaction, but none came for several long moments.

Finally, Ayre spoke, but she didn't take her eyes off the floor. "I did not sacrifice everything just to watch you grow up and become me."

"What?" Aemilia asked, furrowing her brows. Ayre half-stumbled to the nearest armchair and fell into it, ungracefully.

"You claim to want honesty, but you truly do not," Ayre said, looking up at her still-standing daughter with unfiltered grief in her eyes. "There is nothing to be had in the truth but pain and disappointment. And your anger."

"Then I will deal with those things accordingly," Aemilia said, advancing towards the chair and staring at Ayre with wide eyes. "Tell me!"

Ayre looked away, and several thousand years' worth of pain flashed in her eyes as she gathered the strength to speak. Aemilia wasn't sure that she could bring herself to feel sympathy for her mother at the moment, not when she didn't know what was coming.

"The man that I told you of some time ago, when we were preparing for the banquet," Ayre began quietly. "The one with whom I said I was infatuated with in my youth. His name was Eileifr. And I was not merely infatuated."

Listening intently, Aemilia sat down on the edge of her bed, across from where her mother sat. Her brows stayed at a slight furrow as she listened.

Ayre alternated between looking down at her hands and up at her daughter as she continued. "I loved him. I loved him with a passion I did not know was possible. He cared some for me in return, but he never loved me the way that I loved him. I hoped for that to change. But it never did. Haidr came along eventually, and my father agreed to his proposal of marriage. Eileifr showed no interest in stopping it."

The story sounded sickeningly similar. Aemilia kept silent.

"But I did not stop seeing him. In fact, I continued seeing Eileifr for many, many years after I was married."

Now it was Aemilia's turn to be shocked. Her jaw dropped slightly, and Ayre looked away once more, unable to handle the look on her daughter's face.

"I am far from proud of my actions."

"When did you stop seeing him?" Aemilia asked, still gaping slightly.

"When I became pregnant with you."

Aemilia blinked. Maybe this explained Ayre's drunken confession of how Aemilia's birth and very existence had been so burdensome.

But if she only stopped seeing him _after_ she had become pregnant...

She looked at Ayre in alarm. "Mother."

"I never saw him again," Ayre said, looking at her hands again. "And I found out one week ago that he's recently died."

Another question answered. That explained the letter that Aemilia had seen Ayre crying over, as well as the intermittent readable grief on her face for the last week. But a far more dire question was pushing to the forefront of Aemilia's mind.

"Mother."

Ayre continued to ignore her. "He was of Vanaheim. Gifted with sorcery. Unlike any man I had, and have, ever known."

Aemilia was getting nervous. Quite nervous. "_Mother_."

Ayre looked up at last, and her gaze rested just a few inches above that of Aemilia's, to her hair. "He was so handsome. And his hair... it was dark brown. When he was in the sunlight, you could see bits of red throughout it."

Aemilia froze. "Am I mistaking what you are implying?"

Ayre shook her head, a tear escaping her eye. "I did not know for sure until you were born. But as soon as I held you and saw you, I knew you were his. You have his hair. His eyes. His passion."

To say that she was stunned would have been a gross understatement. Aemilia stared openly in shock, the cool iciness of the truth coating her veins as they ran utterly cold. "How... how could you have waited this long to tell me?"

"The truth does you no good. You gain nothing."

"I gain truth!" Aemilia pointed out, incredulous. "Does Father know?"

"I think he suspects," Ayre said quietly. "But he's never spoken of it."

Aemilia was reeling. So much made sense now, yet much also did not. Her heart was pounding and her mind was racing, trying to place the pieces of this bewildering puzzle together. "Did he not want me? Eileifr? Is that why you never saw him again after you became pregnant?"

Ayre shook her head. "I never told him about you."

Her jaw dropped further. Did her mother's deceptions know no end? "_Why?"_

"Because I knew that it would make no difference. He didn't love me. I could not leave my marriage. I spared you both the pain of the truth."

"Perhaps it wasn't your place to do so," Aemilia said through gritted teeth. This man, her biological father, was apparently dead and gone, and gone with him was the chance to ever know him.

"I made a decision when I found out I was carrying you, Aemilia. I gave him up for you. I gave him up and committed myself to raising you, to making sure nobody knew you were born illegitimately" - she spoke the word casually but it cut like jagged glass - "so that you could have the chance at a good, happy life."

"And in the process become bitter and resentful of me for taking your lover away from you?" Aemilia asked desperately, now on the verge of tears herself.

"If I am ever bitter, dear, it is because I am watching my sacrifice go to waste. Like I am now."

Aemilia stood - she could not handle sitting any longer. "_Your sacrifice?_ If everything that you say is true, it should serve as all the more reason to not force me into marriage, as you were! You should want better for me!"

"Better is all I've ever wanted for you," Ayre replied, standing as well. "That's why I gave him up. That's why I've made it my purpose to see you have a good life, a good husband, a good name, a high place in society - and yet you're willing to give it all away for this Prince that cares nothing for you."

"I am giving nothing up for him," Aemilia answered soberly. "I am doing this for me, because I cannot live as you have. I refuse to become bitter as you have. Evidently, my entire life has been a lie, but I will live that way no more."

Ayre looked at her with sudden anger, her face contorting again as she seethed, "I've given you everything. I've given you a good, stable father, a good home, a life of noble privilege, all at my own expense - how can you not see that? What would you have had me _do_?"

"Tell me the truth!" Aemilia shouted back. "I would have had you tell me the truth and given me the chance to at least meet my father once."

"He would have caused you nothing but pain, I promise you this."

Aemilia blinked and answered more quietly, "I would have liked the chance to find out for myself."

Silence fell for a moment then, and Ayre's expression hardened before Aemilia's eyes. "Yes, you have always preferred to find things out for yourself. So be it."

"So be _what_?"

"If you want to be free, of both me and your fiancé, then so be it. I will have your father call off the engagement, and I will give you what you ask for. You will be banished to live with your cousins on the outer provinces. You will work to earn your keep. You will have no servants. You will lose every comfort and every luxury that you were born into. Perhaps then you will learn to be grateful and appreciative of what I've given you."

Once before, hearing such words would have left Aemilia in a puddle of panicked tears on the floor. But now, they simply rolled off her back, their impact nothing compared to that of the impact of learning of her true parentage. She simply stared at Ayre, refusing to give her the satisfaction of expressing a single emotion.

"I will have your essentials packed tonight. Be ready to depart at dawn."

With that, Ayre turned to leave. Once she reached the door, Aemilia said, "I will not forgive you for lying to me."

Ayre paused at the door, but only for a moment. "I know."

She then opened the door and left. Aemilia sank down to the edge of her bed, letting her shoulders sag as she felt a bewildering swell of conflicting emotions take root inside. As relieved as she was to no longer be engaged, the relief was dwarfed by the confusion, betrayal and grief that had crashed over her as she learned the strange, yet somehow completely believable, truth.

Perhaps this was why she had always felt a little bit different, just a little bit oddly shaped and unable to fit the mold expected of her. It had never been a large, looming, glaring thing, but a subtle one that had grown with time. It was more than just her hair - the unusualness of which could be attributed to her real father, apparently - or her long-suppressed interest in magic, or her independent streak and inner rebellion that was so rare among her peers. It was something she had always felt inside, an innate sense of just being a bit... different.

Maybe it was just a symptom of being lied to her entire life.

She would never trust her mother again. She wasn't sure how to approach her father now, knowing what she knew. Not that it mattered - come morning, she would not see either of them for a potentially very long time. Banishment was, in general, rarely a quick affair.

She thought most laughable part of it all, perhaps, was that as she sat there in her room, trying her best to grasp all that had just happened, her instinct was to wish that Loki would come and find her. He was the only comfort that she craved, the only comfort that could have possibly been effective, and yet he was the furthest thing from her reach.

One thing she knew for sure, as she lowered her head and allowed herself to cry in solitude, was that regardless of the consequences, she had done the right thing. She would sooner die than allow herself to become her mother, and her actions today, as difficult as they had been, had been the first step in making sure that never happened.

It was only a small consolation, however, and as she let the tears continue to flow freely, she recognized the end of one stage of life and the dawn of another. It wouldn't have been so terrifying if she only knew what to expect.

* * *

Across the city, Loki sat on the floor, in the very center of his chambers, surrounded by a plethora of open books. His hair was wet and sticking to the nape of his neck after his recent bath, and he wore only thin black trousers, exposing nearly all of his wounds and bruises from the fight to the open air.

He could have healed them all quite easily, but he refrained. Each wound was a reminder of a misstep, a mistake that had allowed Thor to hit him, and feeling the residual pain of each one was extra motivation to learn and do better. By morning, he would be fully healed, either way.

Reactions to the fight had been quite interesting; all, except Frigga, were shocked at how very close Loki had come to defeating his mighty brother. Odin had flashed him a deeply disapproving glare soon after the fight's end, and it had served only to stoke Loki's still-raging inner hatred and anger.

The blistering emotions did not fade as the hours passed; rather, they stayed largely the same, sometimes even increasing, depending on the nature of his changing thoughts. It didn't help that even after how very nearly he had achieved victory, though they were all shocked, nobody seemed to have gained any new respect for him or his strength. The end result of the fight had met their expectations, and evidently, the end was all that really mattered.

Let them think that, he decided. He would have his revenge soon enough.

Thus, the books. The only proper way to begin scheming for the downfall of one's royal brother was with utterly thorough research.

He reached no conclusions that night, however, on how to ruin the coronation. He had a few ideas, but they required much more fleshing out than he could manage in one night. As he sat in the sea of worn parchment and aged leather bindings, he let his overworking mind wander for just a moment or two. And inevitably, it wandered to one particular woman.

He almost stood and vanished into her room. The idea of showing up and reasserting his claim over her, and soothing his battered ego at the same time, was almost tempting enough to make him do it. Pride and stubbornness stopped him.

He could have used her comfort that night. The thought of her fingers running softly through his hair, her lips dancing on his bruised skin, and her sweet voice whispering soothing words into his ear was enough to make him close his eyes and imagine it, just for a moment. But a fantasy could never amount to the real thing, he knew that all too well.

He missed her. He missed everything about her, deeply and horribly. He suspected that in a short amount of time, his will would run dry, and he would indeed reassert his claim over her, whether she liked it or not. She would give in in the end, he knew that much. That was all that mattered.

For now, however, he opened his eyes and did his best to clear her from his thoughts, and turned his attention back to his books. She would have to wait until later, until another day. The fate of Asgard, and the grand ruining of Thor's day of triumph, was regretfully more important than her.

They'd all thank him someday for this, perhaps even Thor himself included. Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe he shouldn't care either way, but he did. Far too much.

Wincing, he shifted and his injuries groaned in protest, but he did not resist the ache as he conjured another book out of thin air. It was enormous and full of tiny print, and it was an exhaustive history of inter-realm incidents between kingdoms and the resulting consequences.

It was going to be a long night.

**A/N: I updated this a full day or two early because I know that despite the extremely important character development here, this chapter still isn't the most... crowd pleasing one ever lol, so I figured I'd just keep us moving briskly through this rough patch in the story. This chapter was also the hardest one for me to write so far - why I don't know, but gah, it took me forever - so I'm eager to throw it here and just be done with it lol. My usual heartfelt thanks to everyone who's read/reviewed/alerted, as well as to midnightwings96 for her HUGE help with this chapter. You guys all need to bow down to her, because she keeps you all from reading the mediocre crap I'd be posting if not for her help :D Also, on another note, I want to express how so incredibly happy I am that pretty much all you guys seem to like my little OC. I've never written a major story with an OC as a main character ever, so it's a huge relief that you guys all like her, and I want to especially thank all of you who've had such wonderful things to say about her. Oh, and I think there was several reviews expressing anxiety of how the story will end and if Loki and Aemilia will end up together. All I'll say in response there is that there is A LOT more story to go here - like a ridiculous amount - and I plan to cover the timeline all the way through The Dark World and beyond, so yeah... the end is far from nigh :D And oh, the things I have planned... *grins villainously***


	11. Chapter 11

The following morning, Aemilia stood outside and watched as her mother's servants carried her belongings to a readied carriage outside in front of the house. None of the servants spoke to her, but a few of them gave her sympathetic looks as they passed by. She could assume that Ayre had forbidden them from speaking to her.

Speaking of her mother, she was nowhere to be found on that chilly morning. Not that Aemilia expected a final goodbye, nor really wanted one.

Someone she did want to see, however, did come to say goodbye. She heard his heavy footsteps behind her as she clutched her light cloak to her shoulders, and when she turned, she gave her father a small smile as he approached.

He returned the smile, seeming even older today today than usual. He had a head full of light brown, graying hair and a beard to match, and light blue eyes that were sad as he looked upon Aemilia. He had been a fierce, well-respected warrior in his day, and he still had the large frame to show it. But now, he looked every bit the sad father, rather than the aging warrior.

"Father," she nodded slightly, the word sounding strange on her tongue, knowing he was not her true father. But he was the only father she would ever have, and she certainly had no desire to push him away.

He stood beside her, looking out towards the carriage as he sighed. "I feel as though I've failed you greatly."

She shook her head, looking up at him. "You've done no such thing."

"I have always known the truth," he said, still staring at the carriage. "And it never changed my love for you. But I fear that I was too distant, too... occupied with other things, when I should have made you my focus."

Aemilia shook her head again, unsure of what to say. Haidr had been no more distant than any other Asgardian father was to their daughter. It was simply the way of the family, for the mother to concern herself with the children while the father took care of everything else. And Haidr had always made an effort to have days meant just for the two of them, where he would take her hunting or go to the opera with her, and that was more than she could say of other fathers she knew.

"I did not know that you felt so strongly opposed to the marriage. I never intended to have you pushed into an unwanted marriage."

Aemilia sighed, glancing towards her feet. "It's over now. It matters not."

Silence fell for a moment or two, and Haidr said, "Your mother drank herself into a stupor last night, after your argument. She said something about a Prince."

Aemilia closed her eyes with a slight groan. She wondered how long it would take for Ayre to spill the secret to all of society, or if she would refrain to hide the shame of it all. It was a toss-up.

"You must be exceedingly careful when dealing with the royals," Haidr said. "Especially the younger son. Tales of his treachery and mischief are numerous and widespread."

"I know," she said. "But he and I are no longer acquainted."

"I hope, for your sake, that it remains that way," Haidr said. "I only want what is best for you."

"My lady," a servant who came scurrying up to Aemilia from the carriage said, "It is time to depart."

She nodded, then glanced up at her father once more before he pulled her into a tight embrace. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd hugged him.

"I love you, my daughter," Haidr said as he pulled away. "I will see to it that you return home in due time."

Aemilia nodded, giving him a smile as she forced herself to let go. "I love you too, Father."

Her heart felt immensely heavier as she turned and began to walk towards the carriage. For a brief moment, she considered asking her father to reverse the banishment, but even if he were to agree to do such a thing, a part of her wanted nothing more than to prove herself to Ayre, prove that she could survive this punishment just fine and endure it with grace and strength.

So, with a deep breath, she climbed into the back of the carriage, and with a final look towards her father and the only home that she had known for over three hundred years, bade a silent farewell.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Aemilia to nod off in the carriage. She knew that the home of her slightly poor cousins was about an eight-hour journey, and she had barely slept after the previous night's events, so when her eyelids began to grow heavy, she did not fight the lure of a nap. She did, however, quickly jerk awake when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

Straightening herself, she peeked out of the carriage windows and saw that they were stopped in the middle of the city, which meant they had not gone far at all. Her driver was speaking to a plump little dark blonde-haired woman draped in a light pink dress who was standing next to a carriage of her own, and they appeared to be having quite the spirited discussion.

Before Aemilia could emerge and find out what was going on, the woman scoffed at Aemilia's driver and then marched on over, opening the carriage door herself.

"Lady Aemilia?" the woman said, brown eyes open wide as she smiled brightly.

"... Yes."

"The Queen has sent me to come and collect you, dear. Come along, I will move your things over to my carriage for you."

Aemilia's eyes widened. "But - what?"

"I don't believe I stuttered!" the woman said, sounding exasperated and amused at the same time. "Come along, child. We wouldn't want to keep Her Highness waiting, now would we?"

"I... no," Aemilia said, allowing the woman to all but yank her from the carriage. She looked at her driver, who was watching helplessly and appeared slightly panicked as the Queen's servant made quick work of the transfer. The next thing she knew, Aemilia was in the royal carriage, wondering why in the world this was happening. Her questions were answered when the servant piled into the carriage with her and instructed the driver to go.

"If I may ask - why did the Queen want to see me?" Aemilia asked as the carriage slowly began moving.

"She heard of your banishment, of course," the woman replied with a smile, as if it was the obvious thing in the world. "She told me to come and fetch you and your belongings, so I would think it's a safe bet that she intends to keep you at the palace for a bit."

Aemilia stared dumbly and asked, "To live?"

"Well I would reckon so, yes, my lady," the servant laughed.

"But... how does the Queen even know of my situation?"

"The Queen has her ways, my dear, the Queen has her ways."

Aemilia slowly turned her gaze out the window and found herself stunned. This was certainly a shock. Was she really to stay at the palace?

Stomach twisting suddenly with anxiety, Aemilia swallowed and tried to wrap her head around the news. If life would stop throwing these shocking developments at her and at least give her a moment to breathe in between them, she would greatly appreciate it.

* * *

The ride to the palace was quite short. In no time at all, Aemilia found herself standing in the courtyard in front of the large main entrance while the servant - whose name was Gunnvarr - began filling her arms with Aemilia's belongings and shoving them at a few nearby male servants.

It was a bright, gorgeous day, around noon, and Aemilia took a moment to look around her, then quickly wished that she hadn't. On the other side of the courtyard, from the direction of where the stables lay out of sight, came a black horse carrying the Prince that had caused so much of her current predicament. Their eyes met across the distance as if a magnet lay between them, drawing their gazes beyond their control.

Her insides performed an impressive flip, and suddenly she wondered if he knew of his mother's intentions - or perhaps he was even behind them. She wondered if things would change now that she was no longer engaged, if he would come after her again, and if she would give into his advances if he did.

It was a slightly idiotic question. She knew she would give in.

But just as quickly as the moment came, it went. He broke the eye contact first, gripping the reins and riding off without another look back. His gaze had been blank and borderline cold, so she assumed for the time being that he did not have anything to do with her summon here. It remained to be seen if he knew why she was here or if he thought she was simply there for another rehearsal.

"All right, come on!" Gunnvarr said cheerily, having now emptied the carriage. She led Aemilia into the palace entrance and continued, "Your things are being sent to the room that we've set up for you. That is where I'm taking you now. I do hope it is to your liking - if it is not, do not hesitate to tell one of us servants."

Aemilia nodded gratefully. This was so strange. "Thank you."

"Oh don't thank me, my lady," Gunnvarr smiled over her shoulder. "Thank Her Highness."

Aemilia was opening her mouth to reply when a loud booming sound made both her and Gunnvarr look up. She somehow wasn't surprised to discover that the booming sound was Prince's Thor's voice as he approached them with a huge smile.

"Lady Aemilia!" he bellowed as Aemilia came to a halt. Gunnvarr paused but did not linger to overhear their conversation, instead politely crossing the hall to converse with another servant. "I heard the wonderful news!"

Aemilia smiled uneasily, allowing the Prince to grab her hand and customarily kiss it. "Might I ask what news you speak of, Your Grace?"

"That you've come to stay here, of course!" he grinned, releasing her hand. Then he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and added, "Loki must be overjoyed."

"He... I do not know his feelings on the matter. I've only just found out myself," she supplied with a shrug.

Thor looked mildly confused for a moment before his smile spread across his face again. "Ah, well, in that case, allow me to be the first to officially welcome you to the palace. It is our honor to have you here, my lady."

"Thank you," Aemilia smiled, grateful that he didn't seem to be aware of the circumstances that had brought her here.

"You are very welcome," he smiled back, then tilted his head slightly and asked, "Did you see mine and my brother's fight yesterday?"

"I did," Aemilia nodded, a flash of Loki's little parting bow suddenly bursting in her mind's eye for the hundredth time. "It was very... well, I don't think I breathed the entire time that I watched."

He laughed. "Yes, I can see why you would. My brother fought admirably, but you see, some of us do battle while others do tricks. As he and I illustrated yesterday."

Aemilia's smile faltered a bit but Thor's did not, and she looked up into his vivid blue eyes and wondered if he could truly be as dumb as she perceived him to be in that moment. "I suppose that's true. Although I would consider placing an unliftable magical hammer on Loki's chest to keep him from rising to be quite a trick of its own."

Thor stared at her for a moment as his smile slowly shrank. "Well..."

"It's not as if that spear that he was wielding could match the strength of Mjolnir," Aemilia added. "It was not a fair fight by any means. And, if I may speak so boldly, I suspect that without the aid of your hammer, the result may have been quite different."

"You _do_ speak boldly," Thor replied, seemingly unsure of whether to be offended or amused. He seemed to be tilting towards the latter.

"I am only being honest, my Prince. I admire both you and your brother greatly. And equally, as I believe all of Asgard should."

From the corner of her eye, Aemilia could see Gunnvarr watching the exchange, and others whispering amongst themselves as they walked by. She quickly put a smile on her face and turned back to Thor, saying, "In any case - thank you very much for the welcome, my Prince. And congratulations on your coming coronation."

She gave him a curtsy then, and walked past him, hearing quick footsteps behind her that belonged to Gunnvarr. The servant quickly caught up and began leading Aemilia towards her room once more, as the soon-to-be King watched her leave with a vague smile on his face.

"Be mindful of your surroundings, child," Gunnvarr whispered as they walked the halls. "This palace is full of rumors and your arrival is sure to only spark more, especially when others see you carrying on with a Prince like that."

Aemilia didn't say anything, unsure of what Gunnvarr knew and what she didn't. She seemed to be a rather unusual servant, very motherly and even outspoken, and she suspected the Queen had chosen her to tend to her arrival for those very reasons.

The room that had been prepared for her was on the same wing as Frigga's and Loki's rooms, but on a much lower level, so it did not take a long trek to get there. She expected to be blown away by the luxury that she would find there, and what she found did not disappoint.

The room was easily twice the size of Aemilia's room back at home, which was hardly small itself. There was a sitting area, a study, and the bedchambers themselves, which housed a huge four-poster bed that reminded her greatly of Loki's bed. There was a balcony outside of two large glass doors shielded by shimmering white curtains, and the view of the city from it was unlike anything she'd had back at home. But, in Aemlia's opinion, the true wonder to behold was the bath.

Nothing could compare to even the most standard bath in all of the palace, which hers may or may not have been, but it mattered little. The bathtub was large and ornate, nearly big enough to swim in, and from the one bath she'd shared with Loki in the past, she knew what sort of oils and salts and healing bubbles would be at her disposal. The water itself seemed to be made of different stuff from the rest of Asgard's water.

As soon as Gunnvarr had finished her fussing and left Aemilia to herself in her new room, the first thing that she did was head straight for the bath, leaving everything to be explored later. It gave her time to think and also managed to relax her in a way that was greatly needed at that point in time.

She spent her intentionally incredibly long bath mulling over everything, trying to figure out exactly what the Queen's motivations were in bringing her here. Was she merely lending a helping hand to a girl in need, or was she also attempting to play matchmaker, now that Aemilia was no longer spoken for by another? And how exactly the Queen had known of her current situation to begin with was quite a mystery.

Absently, Aemilia wondered how Ayre would react when she learned that Aemilia had been royally intercepted on her way to the outer provinces. She did so wish that she could witness that reaction.

Underlying all of her thoughts, however, was a growing anxiety that crept up further every time she thought on Loki, and the fact that eventually, one way or another, she would inevitably run into him. Whether he would seek her out - or she him - or if it was a coincidence like with Thor in the halls, it would surely happen in time. And, judging by her reaction to the long-distance eye contact in the courtyard, she shuddered to think of how she would feel standing in his presence once more.

The water in the bath never ran cold, despite her very long time in it, and when she finally wandered back out into her bedchambers - in a robe supplied by the palace that felt as if it were made of actual silk-spun fur - she found a tray of assorted foods awaiting her on a table in the sitting area.

She'd literally bathed well past lunch, so her stomach growled in appreciation of the sight as she made her way to the tray, but before she could so much as pluck a single berry from it, Gunnvarr came bustling in and stopped her.

"Oh, don't spoil your appetite, my lady!" she exclaimed with a smile. "I've just now come to have you prepare to have supper with the Queen in her chambers."

"Oh," Aemilia said, a bit surprised by the servant's sudden appearance.

"I've also come to tell you that the Queen has seen fit to put me in your service while you are here, my lady."

This didn't surprise Aemilia at all. She smiled. "I see. I will give the Queen my thanks over supper."

Gunnvarr smiled back and then marched towards Aemilia's new enormous closet. "Well, then, let's get you dressed and ready."

* * *

By now, she had achieved a certain level of comfort with the Queen, so Aemilia didn't feel overly anxious as Gunnvarr led her down the halls towards Frigga's private rooms. She had changed into a flowing coral-colored dress and Gunnvarr had yanked half of her hair into a hold at the back of her head - she wasn't a particularly gentle handmaid - and her face showed no trace of any of the tears she had spent the previous night shedding. She looked wonderful, but she was rather lightheaded and quite in need of food, so her steps were a bit more hurried than they normally would have been.

Once outside of the Queen's doors, Aemilia stood and waited while Gunnvarr knocked softly. She let her gaze drift down the hall, down to where she knew Loki's room lay, and she didn't turn her gaze away until the door opened.

Another servant had opened the door, then smiled and motioned for them to enter. Aemilia complied, then smiled herself as she walked in and saw the Queen sitting regally at her table. Frigga smiled and stood as she dismissed the servants with a slight wave of her hand. "My dear. It's good to see you here again. I am glad you made it safely."

Aemilia bowed slightly before she felt herself being pulled into a light hug, and after Frigga released her, she smiled and said, "Thank you, my Queen - I am incredibly grateful for what you've done for me, but I am a bit... confused."

"Confused?" Frigga raised an eyebrow. "Why ever so?"

"Well... I am meant to be punished and serving out my punishment in poverty and ridicule," she pointed out. "I was not anticipating being offered safe haven here at the palace by the very Queen herself."

"I am aware of your struggles, dear girl," Frigga said comfortingly. "And I believe that such a 'punishment' would serve neither you or or your family well. You are welcomed to stay with us as for as long as you would desire."

"Thank you," Aemilia replied, genuinely floored by the Queen's generosity. "But - if I may ask - how did you know of what happened?"

Frigga then cast her eyes downward slightly and smiled, about to reply when the door suddenly burst open and an extremely, painfully familiar voice filled the room.

"I'm here, Mother - what is so 'urgent' that you demanded I come here on such short..."

Loki stopped short when he saw Aemilia standing next to his mother. She froze as well, watching his slight shock give way to a cool mask of indifference. She tried to do the same, school her features to appear not to care at all that he was there, but as always, she was a poor liar.

He turned his eyes to Frigga, looking wholly unamused. "_Mother_."

"I'm glad you made it, my son," Frigga smiled. Then she feigned a look of surprise and sighed apologetically, "Oh dear - I've just remembered, your father requested I join him in the Great Hall for dinner." She turned to Aemilia and gave her hands a brief squeeze. "Do forgive me, my dear. But," she let go and turned towards Loki, "do not have the supper I had sent here go to waste on my account."

Loki glared softly at Frigga as she kissed him on the cheek, then disappeared from her chambers with a satisfied smile on her face. Aemilia shifted slightly on her feet when the doors noisily closed behind the Queen, and when she chanced a look back up to Loki, she found that he had turned his glare to her.

Silence stretched for one long, comically awkward moment, until Aemilia decided that it was ridiculous. "Loki."

"Quite an informal way to address a Prince."

_Oh_. So this was how he was going to act. _Wonderful_.

Still glaring at her, he eventually walked past her and deposited himself at his mother's table, removing the lid from the dinner tray with a lazy hand. She watched for a moment, until she rolled her eyes and quickly walked to the table herself.

She sat across from Loki and didn't flinch when he looked at her as if she was insane for having actually sat there. "Is this truly how you are going to behave?" she asked.

"What else would you prefer?" he asked.

She answered with a question of her own. "Do you know why I am here?"

"I assume that my mother foolishly thought it would be wise to meddle following one of your rehearsals," he muttered. "Though I don't understand why you went along with it. Surely your fiancé must be wondering what's keeping you."

"Then you do not know."

He looked up at her and replied mockingly, "So enlighten me."

She took a deep breath, her hunger momentarily forgotten as she gathered her words. Loki ate in silence as he waited for her to speak. She decided that he only needed the abridged version of events for now. "I refused to marry him. So my mother banished me. And the Queen had me brought here when she learned of it."

Genuine surprise flickered across his face. It softened his previously hardened features, and she felt her insides begun to squirm traitorously. She knew that he would always have this effect on her - it was inescapable.

Surprise gave way to suspicion on his face. "She brought you here? To stay?"

"Yes," Aemilia replied. It was always difficult to read him, but right now, it was impossible.

He turned his eyes back to his plate after a moment, carelessly shrugging. His next words shouldn't have cut her, but they still did. "Then she is indeed meddling foolishly."

* * *

He stabbed a vegetable with his fork, as if it had personally wronged him, and he laced as much venom into his words as he could muster. He stared at his plate, refusing to look back up at her.

All things considered, he was actually being quite mild compared to how he wanted to act.

If this silly girl thought that she could reject him and push him away for some ridiculous morality-based reason, then expect to pick up where they'd left off simply because she was stupid enough to go and get herself banished and lucky enough to be rescued by his mother, then she was more foolish than he'd taken her for.

Even _if_ it was taking all of his self control to not flip the table over and take her right there on the floor. Well, perhaps not _that_ floor - this was his mother's room, after all, and he wasn't _entirely_ without decency.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you've no wish to see me," he heard her say quietly. He still didn't look up. Looking up would mean looking at her, her eyes, her lips, her soft hair that he craved to feel running between his fingers. "I had just... hoped that it wouldn't be like this."

"Hope can be quite a disappointing thing," he supplied, his tone bored. "What did you hope for?"

"I won't speak to you unless you look at me."

He snapped his eyes up and glared at her with as much derision as he could manage. He noticed that she was breathing through her mouth, even trembling slightly. She must have been exceedingly nervous.

She gave him her answer. "I do not know what I hoped for. But I do not want your anger."

"Hm. But what is it you told me that night that we first met? 'We do not always get what we want'. It's true, is it not?"

Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he was aiming for. He could think of no desirable outcome that would result from his taunting words. It just felt good to watch the hurt and annoyance flicker across her face when he spoke them.

"What made you snap?" he asked casually.

She actually perked up some at his question. Her sad expression became... determined. She raised a brow and replied, "He kissed me. Really kissed me. Long and slowly. Deeply. Out in my mother's gardens, during our engagement party."

His jaw clenched, and she saw it. He cursed his own stupidly jealous reaction. She'd drawn it from him on purpose.

"And I hated every moment of it."

"And that was enough to make you break the law?" Loki asked, trying to block out the revolting image of that guardsmen jamming his tongue down Aemilia's throat.

"It was enough to make me see that I would rather live a life in exile than live a miserable lie with a man I do not love."

"And yet here you are, not in exile, but a palace, dining with a Prince."

Aemilia shrugged slightly. "Your mother is a generous Queen."

He nodded. "Far more generous a Queen than I am a Prince."

She was silent for a moment. He didn't take his eyes off of her this time.

"You act as if I wronged you by refusing to be your whore while I was engaged."

Anger stirred within him at her words, anger that was largely not even her fault, but the fault of everything else that the last few days had held for him. But she was the closest target, and she was looking at him as if she could see right through his skin, so he coiled and struck, because he didn't know what else to do. "You act as if you were ever anything more to me than my whore."

He expected the swiftness with which she shot out of her and rounded the table to slap him. Unlike the other times she'd struck him in the past, he didn't enjoy it in the least.

"You poisonous bastard," she seethed at him as he looked up at her with narrowed, angered eyes. He saw the genuine hurt etched on her face, and it wasn't satisfying. It made his stomach turn. "If you're going to call me such a thing, at least have the decency to believe it when you say it."

He stared at her in slight confusion. She merely looked at him in disgust before adding, "Your lies mean nothing if they lack conviction."

He watched blankly as she turned and left. His cheek still stung, but the sudden, wrenching ache in his chest at watching her leave stung much deeper.

* * *

She didn't walk, but stomped back to her room, feeling her hands and palms become unnaturally heated as her anger amplified the magic in her veins and pushed it down to her very fingertips. Now she understood why Loki always broke things when he was angry - she had to actively fight to not break something, and she wasn't typically one to smash things when angry.

She cursed him inwardly with every foul word known to her tongue, again cursing her stupidity in picking this infuriating bastard to fall in love with. Of all of the available men in Asgard that she could have had, she had to pick the most emotionally immature, ragingly possessive, painfully confusing man of them all.

For a split second when he'd uttered that word, a word that he'd never used to describe her before, she almost let it crush her. If he _had_ meant it, she knew it would have changed things. But it was glaringly obvious, after all the time she'd spent with him and how well she knew his face now, that he did not mean it even slightly. And that made her even more angry.

That he would say what he had strictly for the purpose of lashing out, to purposefully and unnecessarily complicate matters, made her want to scream. Loki made everything so much more difficult than was necessary - how did he not see this? He was working furiously against himself and his own interests and didn't even realize it.

When she finally reached her room, she threw herself inside of it and was relieved to find it empty of her new handmaid. She began pacing back and forth, eyes closed, trying to calm down the energy coursing through her veins before it escaped her containment and broke her beautiful new room.

* * *

Meanwhile, Loki wandered off towards the Great Hall, intending on having a word with his mother and expressing his deep disapproval of her actions. But before he could so much as glance her way once he'd arrived, Thor appeared out of nowhere with a huge cup of ale in his hand, blocking his view of the entire hall.

"Brother! There you are!"

Loki sighed. "Yes, here I am."

"You," Thor grinned, slapping a hand on his shoulder, "must be very pleased with today's events."

Loki looked up at Thor with utterly unamused eyes and replied, "Do I look pleased? Where is Mother?"

Thor furrowed his brows and slowly dropped his hand. "But... has something happened between you and the lady?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Thor, I am truly in no mood to discuss -"

Thor suddenly raised a finger and interrupted the younger brother. "Now listen, brother - I spoke to your Lady in the halls today when she arrived, and she is perfect for you. Truly. Do not let her slip away from you."

Thor's voice was giving him a headache. "Thor -"

"She's so... outspoken! Very rare among maidens. And honest, which I suppose makes her your opposite but -"

"Thor, I really -"

"And she's quite fair!" Thor went on, another big grin on his face. "In fact, if you hadn't already staked a claim on her, I myself might -"

That was it. "Never mind," Loki muttered, turning around and leaving Thor to his ale and his friends. He couldn't stand to talk about the girl one more damn time to anyone, not even Frigga. Perhaps especially not to Frigga.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Aemilia to get her anger under control. Once she did, she sat the desk in the study section of her chambers, lost in thought.

She was sure that most women in her position would not want to see Loki any time soon after what he'd said to her, whether he'd meant it or not. There was a certain amount of time required to punish a man for such an offense, but she had no desire to punish him like that. In fact, his outburst had left her wanting to do nothing more than march right up to his room and not leave until she'd penetrated his ridiculous defenses, because the truth was, she _knew_ she meant something to him.

She didn't think he loved her - she wasn't so bold as to hope for it either - but she knew that he had grown attached to her in their affair, far more attached than he seemed to even realize. And after she had been the one to end it, she supposed that it only made sense for a man such as Loki to treat her badly when faced with her presence for the first time following the split.

She could give him time and hope that he came around. She could wait for him to mature a bit emotionally - and he surely needed to - before she attempted to even try to get close to him again. Or she could recognize that nothing had really changed, that he was still a terribly bad idea, and that she should endeavor to keep from becoming entangled with him again.

Any of those ideas would have made an abundance of logical sense.

But, Aemilia was _here_, in the palace due to the kindness of the Queen, cast out from the only family she'd ever known, and still reeling under the truth of her parentage that she had learned only one night ago. She was alone, horribly unsure of what the future held, and she did not want to spend this night sitting in her room overthinking it all until she fell into a fitful sleep.

If there was one thing Loki had taught her, it was that if she wanted something, and if she had it in her power to take it, then she should. She thought back on all of those times that he had simply appeared before her, regardless of where she was or what she was doing, and taken her as he pleased. She thought of all those times he'd growled the word "mine" into her ear, all the ways in which he acted as though he owned her, and her choice became clear.

She stood up from her desk and walked out of her room with renewed purpose.

* * *

He couldn't read. He couldn't think. He couldn't focus.

He couldn't even spend five minutes plotting his brother's downfall without his thoughts turning to that infuriating girl. She was easier to cast out of his mind when she wasn't under the same roof as he. Knowing she was so close, that she would be sleeping in his own home for the foreseeable future, made her that much harder to keep out of his head. And now was far too crucial of a time to let his mind slip like this.

He had read the same sentence on a page of the book that sat open before him on his desk for the fifth straight time when a knock on his door caught his attention. He looked at the door and narrowed his eyes - servants didn't knock like that. This knock had started off strong and then became weak, almost timid, at the end, like whomever was knocking had begun to lose their nerve.

He wasn't surprised, then, when he walked to the door and opened it to find her on the other side, staring at him defiantly. Of course it was her. But that was where her predictability ended.

He opened his mouth to say something sharp just before she literally pushed past him and forced her way inside of his room. He hadn't been expecting it, so he hadn't been able to stop it.

"This is ridiculous," she stated as he closed the door. When he whirred around to face her, she took a step closer to him. "Absolutely ridiculous."

"What makes you think you can storm into my room like this?" he spat, making sure there was an edge to his voice.

"At least I had the courtesy to knock, which you never bothered to do for me," she retorted. "But I did not come here to fight with you."

He snorted, leaning against his door with his arms crossed. "Yes, I can imagine what you came here for. Sorry darling, I'm not in the mood."

"I didn't come here for that either," she said, her time becoming just a bit quieter.

"Then what?" he challenged. "What could you possibly want from me?"

He watched then as she let out a breath, casting her eyes off to the side as her shoulders sagged fractionally.

"I came here to talk to you."

He eyed her skeptically. "You came here to _talk_ to me, after what I said to you during our last conversation?"

She looked him in the eye. "I know you didn't mean it."

"Can you really be so sure?"

She didn't hesitate in her response. "Yes."

He might have been more annoyed if she hadn't been right, but unfortunately, she was. Even when he'd considered her to be little more than a greatly fascinating plaything to obsess over, he'd never thought of her as a whore. And not just because he was her first and only lover.

She was staring at him now, and he felt that irritating and familiar sensation of being seen through to his very bones. Then she spoke again. "Believe it or not, Loki, I've come to know you over these months. I wouldn't claim to always know when you are lying, but I knew today. And it wasn't the first time I've seen beyond your falsehoods."

"And now," he said, straightening up and letting his arms fall to his sides as he began to slowly walk towards her, "after being cast out from your own family and being taken in by virtual strangers... you come to me. For what? Familiarity? Comfort?"

His tone wasn't exactly mocking, but it wasn't gentle either. He stood before her, quite closely now, and looked down at her from his full height. She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Yes."

"Nothing else?" he inquired, leaning in closer until her cheeks flushed at his proximity.

She answered as honestly as she could, her eyes dropping to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again. "For the moment."

He gave a tiny, barely perceptible smirk. "All right."

Then he turned and gestured towards his couch. She followed him there silently, and he wondered if she was thinking about the last time they'd found themselves on that very same couch. It was certainly high on his mental list of personal favorite memories.

Once they were seated, he on one end and she on the other, close enough to him without being awkward but far enough to reman respectable, he waved a hand meant to tell her to begin. It was slightly pompous, but he was a Prince, and he didn't care anyway. He watched as she took a breath and began.

"I didn't tell you the full story."

It only took a moment or two for her to remedy that. His eyes widened when she told him that she'd told her mother of their affair, and had identified him as her lover. He wasn't angry that she did so - he had little to nothing to lose from anyone knowing - but he was greatly surprised that she would acknowledge him to her parents. Though not as surprised as he was that she was apparently the offspring of a long-running adulterous affair.

"And your father is dead?" he asked, for the sake of clarification, when she was done telling her tale.

"He died a week ago," she replied.

"What was his name?"

"Eileifr," she paused. "Why? Have you heard of him?"

The slightly hopeful tone of her voice made him feel genuine pity for her. He shook his head. "No. But you could ask my mother. She keeps close ties with the Vanir."

Aemilia nodded. "So much has happened in such a short amount of time... I did not intend to burden you with my tale of woe. But it's become quite clear to me in the last week, and especially the last day, how used to your company I have allowed myself to become."

He looked away at those words. He felt her gaze on him remain.

"The fight... it wasn't fair."

He clenched his jaw. He had no desire to speak of his and Thor's fight.

"You should have won."

"Enough," he said quietly. "It's over."

"I've just laid myself out quite plainly before you," she pointed out. "You do not need to act around me as you do in front of the others."

He looked at her, trying to fully understand exactly what had brought her here, to his room, tonight. "Tell me why you came here tonight. The real reason."

"I've already told you."

"You've told me a partial truth."

She sighed, reaching a hand up to run it through her hair as she glanced away. "I don't think I need to say the words for you to understand."

"No, but perhaps I wish to hear them anyway."

"There are no shortage of things I'd also like to hear, but as you made so abundantly clear earlier," she smiled, "we don't always get what we want."

He returned her smile, leaning forward a bit, resting his elbows on his spread knees. He let the smile fade from his face before he spoke again. "I nearly came for you last night."

"Why didn't you?" she asked softly.

"My attention was required elsewhere." He watched her as she nodded, tilting his head slightly as he spoke again. "After all that's happened... I admit that I am surprised that you are here."

"I am not here because I am weak," she said, slowly rising to her feet. She took slow steps away from the couch, and he watched silently for a moment, letting his eyes fall over her form.

"I never accused you of being weak."

"I used to think that I was," she said, moving in the direction of his two closed glass doors that led to his balcony. He rose and quietly followed her, watching her curiously. "I used to think that I couldn't say to no you. But I did."

"Yes you did."

She placed her fingertips to the glass, staring out at the darkened but vividly colorful night sky. "I don't have to anymore."

He stood behind her, close enough to smell the soft, clean scent of her hair but not close enough to touch her. "No you don't."

"And I don't want to." She turned, and as she faced him, she looked up into his eyes, and he felt a stirring from somewhere deep within. "I hated saying no to you."

"Then do not."

Despite the simmering rage and hatred that sat now at the far edge of his mind, he felt a semblance of peace for the first time in what had felt like ages. Having her this close, feeling her warmth radiate from her proximity, hearing her words in his ears, it was enough to calm the storm within, even if just for a short time.

"It cannot be like before," she said. He ran his fingertips along her cheek and relished her responding shiver.

"What would you ask of me?" he asked softly, eyes running along her lips and then down to her neck, places that called for the touch of his mouth.

"Do you care for me?"

He tucked her hair behind her ear, lips quirking a bit at her question. "Surely you know the answer to that."

"Say it."

He liked her like this. She'd grown in the last week, gained a clear strength in the wake of what would have made a lesser woman weak. "Yes, Aemilia. I care for you."

"Then _take_ care of me."

It was a soft little plea, and he understood fully what she meant without her having to elaborate. Caring was not just an abstract concept, or a mere thought or emotion. It was an act, with many different forms and interpretations, even more so the act of _taking_ care of another. And he had never performed such an act before.

She touched his face and added, "I will always take care of you in return."

Her words were an unexpected jolt to his very core. He was reminded of something she had said before, the night that she had refused him, something that had also brought a shock to his being...

_Do you not know? Am I not pathetically obvious enough in my emotions for you to grasp what you've become to me?_

Her feelings for him were enough to drown him. They were etched so clearly upon her beautiful face, swirling even in her eyes, and the only way to breathe was to dive deeper, immerse himself within her dangerous depths.

He'd been a fool to ever let her go.

He kissed her, and it was breath to his starving lungs.

* * *

She was trembling, though not from fear or anxiety. She was open and exposed, vulnerable and breakable in this moment, and she was trusting him to take care of her - _him_. Loki, mischief maker, liar, trickster, and so much more, held her in the palm of his hand, and he knew it.

His kiss was soft, sweeter than any she'd tasted on his lips before, and his fingers in her hair clutched and held her tightly but gently. There was an edge of desperation in both his kiss and his touch, something that told her he needed this as much as she did. She buried her hands in his hair and pulled him close as she lost herself in his kiss.

He broke away with an almost silent gasp, resting his forehead against hers as their eyes opened and met one another's gaze.

Only a week ago, she'd thought she would never have this again. It was unthinkable.

"Do you hate them?"

The whispered question took her aback. She drew away slightly to have a clearer look at him. "Do I hate whom?"

"Your parents," he said. "For lying to you. Do you hate them?"

She shook her head. "No. My father... I hold no anger for him. I don't believe that I will ever forgive my mother. I despise her at the moment but I do not hate her, exactly."

He furrowed his brows slightly and asked, "How?"

She furrowed her own brows in return. "Why are you asking me this?"

He looked at her for a moment longer before his arms slowly unwound from her, and she felt slightly bereft as he turned and began slowly walking away. He ran a hand through his hair, and she followed him as he walked seemingly without aim.

"Is it not the normal, expected response to a loved one who's wronged you?" he asked, coming to a stop between his bed and a table that sat nearby. "To hate them?"

"Not for me," she replied, suddenly understanding the reason for his line of questioning. "Do you feel as if you hate your brother?"

She was met with silence. She continued to stare at the back of his head as she added, "You cannot have true hate without love. That's what I've heard, anyway. And I do believe it."

"Is that why you once told me that you hated me?" he asked, turning slowly and meeting her gaze once again.

"I believe that you are deflecting," she smiled in return.

"I am only curious," he shrugged, a tight smile on his own lips.

She wondered what was going on inside of his head. There was something different about him now, something that he was trying to hide. She assumed that it had to do with Thor, and the events of the last week.

She then acted on instinct, closing the distance between them and drawing him into an embrace. She stood on the tips of her toes as she wrapped her arms around him, breathing against his neck and trying not to laugh at his somewhat stiff initial response. His arms hung at his sides and she could just imagine the slightly confused look on his face.

But after a moment, one of his arms finally moved, and his hand came to rest gently on her back. His other hand rose and brushed her hair back so that he could lower his head and nuzzle her neck just slightly.

Every nerve in her body had been called to life the moment he'd kissed her in front of the glass doors, and they were still alight now as she simply held him in her arms. She wanted him, needed him, but the thought of being slammed against a wall or thrown on to his bed was almost unbearable.

So, she asked him for something that she'd never before wanted to ask for, in the form of a soft kiss to his lips. His equally soft response and lack of roughness from either his hands or his lips was more than she could have hoped for, an answer to what she'd feared was a silly request.

Despite his soft touch, she was still panting when they eventually broke apart for a moment. His hands rose to cradle her face, and he appeared amused as his eyes swept along her lips and cheeks, on up to her eyes. "I can nearly _hear_ your heart pounding."

She replied by placing a hand directly over his heart, through the thin fabric of his shirt. He'd shied away from this very touch once before, but this time, he didn't flinch. "And I can feel yours pounding just as hard."

He responded with another kiss, and his arms stayed wrapped around her as he slowly walked her backwards, towards his bed. He didn't break the kiss as he eased her down to his sheets, and just the act of being laid down on his bed rather than tossed to it or simply conjured into it was a new experience.

His lips barely left hers as they began undressing the other, their movements unhurried, though there was a desperation amid the languid movements that gave them a sense of urgency. Despite it, she savored every brush of his fingers against her skin, the way that he actually left her dress intact and wearable as he pulled it from her body. She felt a slight thrill at this, as if it were her first time with him, and in a sense, maybe it was.

While she was already lost in bliss, Loki seemed to be in the midst of a great struggle. He lay over her, his shirt discarded on the floor on top of her dress, kissing her neck and trailing his fingers down her chest, and she could feel his slight tremble. She couldn't tell if it was because he was holding back, or because he genuinely didn't know how to do this.

He lifted his head and kissed her lips, shuddering against her as her tongue met his, the skills that he'd taught her coming back to haunt him. She took advantage of his seeming weakness and rolled them over, pushing him down on his back without letting her lips leave his.

His hands pushed up the thin little slip that she wore as her fingers curled in his hair, and even still, she felt his hands shaking just slightly as they ran up her sides.

"I don't want you to hold back," she said, breaking away to meet his eyes, and her breath caught at what she saw in those green depths. He was actually _nervous_.

"I'm not," he replied, confirming what she saw and felt.

For once, she felt like they were on equal footing. He didn't know how to be gentle, and she didn't either - she knew only what he'd taught her and what they had shared previously. At least this time, they were slipping into uncharted territory together.

She brushed a few runaway strands of hair from his face, taking a moment to commit to memory what vulnerability looked like on that beautiful face of his before she kissed him again. He moaned lightly into her mouth and then rolled them back over.

Things moved only slightly quicker then, her hands moving to the waist of his trousers and getting them halfway off before he disposed of them, and the rest of what he wore, fully, adding to the pile on the floor. She reached for him and pulled him back down to her, latching her lips to the pulse on his neck as his hands slipped away the last little scrap of fabric on her hips. She sucked lightly on the sensitive skin and pulled a groan from his throat, just before he placed a hand in her hair and gently pushed her head back down to the pillow that lay underneath it. He kissed her with the same quiet but smoldering intensity that she saw in his eyes, and his hand stayed in her hair while the other slid over a breast and tortured it.

She felt him against her thigh, hard and needy, but he set out to touch and kiss every inch of her, as if it really was the first time and he wanted to memorize her all over again. She watched him as he kissed down over her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts and teasingly on the peaks of each, entranced by the sensations but also by his closed eyes and the determination of his set brows. He was still shaking, and now so was she, but it was subtle and she barely noticed.

His lips and tongue traced over her ribs, nearly tickled her when they reached her sides and then sent fire trickling down to her depths as he kissed above and then under her navel, growing slower the lower his mouth crept. Her fingers slid into his hair, and occasionally his eyes would peer up into hers, though they never lost their intensity.

The first touch of his tongue to her core was too much, and her voice was stifled by the unrivaled intensity of his touch - she could not have cried out no matter how much she wanted to. Loki, however, faced no obstacle in letting out a deep, almost relieved-sounding moan at that first touch, and it surprised her as much as it aroused her.

If he'd had his way, he would have dragged it out, and he was trying to, judging by his lazy but intense pace and pressure. But she was far too sensitive, too close after only a moment or two of his attentions, and she found her voice again as she helplessly fell apart.

He rode out her end with her, letting her down easy and not letting her go until she was still and quite limp before him. He looked up and her eyes were closed as she panted, her chest heaving up and down as her mind slowly returned to her.

She opened her eyes when she felt him crawl back up her body, leaving a trail of kisses on her skin until he reached her mouth once more. His kiss was desperate - not hard or demanding, but full of need and something else that she couldn't place until he broke away and looked into her eyes.

"I need you."

One sentence had never meant so much, encompassing so many different things, with so few words.

* * *

The words spilled from his mouth before he could help it, and he blamed her. He blamed everything on her, and he needed her all the more for it.

The storm that she calmed was still there, still on the edge of his mind, but he could not feel it or sense it now. Nothing could have drawn him away from this moment, not even his anxiety that came with realizing what he was about to do.

She seemed stunned and yet quietly joyous at his words, and he let her pull him down for a sweet kiss. For all the times they had done this before, in this same bed, he understood full well the difference in the atmosphere in this time, as well as the difference in her and even in him. This was something more, something terrifying and unknown and wonderful.

This was also his last moment to turn back and save himself, to spare them both the potential consequences.

But he let the moment pass and shifted against her until he felt their bodies align just right. He was on his elbows, hands on either side of her head as his fingers twisted in her hair, and his eyes stayed on hers as he pushed forward, filling her completely, at last.

Her eyes slid shut as he stilled and so did his, and he dropped his lips down to her parted ones as he remained unmoving for a moment. This was new and far more daunting than he ever would have expected.

When he could no longer stand to be still, he began to move slowly, tentatively, differently. One of her hands stayed in his hair, at the back of his head, while the other held on to his back, and he opened his eyes to chance a look into hers. The desire and affection he saw spurred him on, and he closed his eyes again as he gave in to instinct he didn't know he had.

For the first time, he took the time to simply feel, to perceive every last sensation and feeling that passed between them as he moved. He let his hips just roll against hers and savored the kisses she placed along his jaw as she made her way to his lips, all as the quietly blissful sounds she made sent him further into the most wonderfully foreign daze he'd ever fallen victim to.

He could not speak, and wouldn't have even if he could; now was not the time for his usual lascivious words or his occasional attempts to draw the same out of her. Her touch was all he needed, and the blindingly sweet affection he saw every time his eyes caught hers.

He wondered if it was love that he saw in those beautiful orbs.

If it was, was it also love that made him act this way, take her this way, feel this way about her?

With a groan, he rolled them over, just so he could watch her move on top of him. He thought she looked magnificent, worthy of her own throne as her hair fell in tumbling waves down her shoulders, framing her beautifully content face as she took over. His hands roamed her legs, her hips. stomach, and breasts, every inch of her that he could reach, until it was too much and he had to feel her underneath him once more.

Time meant nothing, and neither of them were racing to the end or craving it; this time it was about the journey more than the destination.

In the midst of his bliss, as he kissed her long and slowly and maintained the languid but deep pace, he felt a shiver of surprise and pleasure as she suddenly clenched around him and gasped into his mouth. He slowed down to keep from spilling over himself and watched her climax play out on her face, wondering if it had taken her by surprise as well.

Her grip on his hair loosened as she became limp once more, and he couldn't help but kiss her face as she tried to catch her breath. He kept his movements slower but did not stop them, waiting until she began moving with him again to resume their previous pace.

Finally, he found himself able to speak again, if only for a short moment. He brushed his lips against her ear, breathing heavily as he whispered with more emotion than he meant to allow, "You are beautiful."

He felt her shudder against him, then felt her hands take his face and pull his lips back to hers. She kissed him softly, then held his forehead to hers as she looked up into his eyes.

He reached up a hand and covered one of hers that held his cheek, gently taking hold of it and drawing it away, to the small space between their faces. But instead of letting go, he looked at their joined hands, then, keeping his eyes there, entwined his fingers with hers. His eyes flickered to her surprised ones for just a second or two, and he realized that he'd never held a woman's hand like this before.

He moved their tangled hands down to the pillow, beside her head, then took her other hand and gave it the same treatment as he felt himself suddenly overwhelmed. He couldn't draw this out any longer.

He kissed her with a gentle but fiery passion, and she returned it with equal fervor, clutching his hands tightly and rocking her hips up to meet his as he sped up by just a fraction. They stayed like that until the end, intertwined and locked in a consuming passion that neither had ever known before.

His end washed over him and left him gasping, made all the more powerful for the time he'd taken to get there, as well as the breathtaking tightness around him as he sent Aemilia spiraling off into her third release of the night. The intensity of it was a shock, taking him by intoxicating surprise, and for the first time in a long time - perhaps in his life - he found himself truly satisfied.

In the daze that followed, he was brought back to life by soft little fingers moving gently through his hair. He was utterly exhausted, completely spent, and his eyelids felt impossibly heavy as he rolled himself off of her at last.

Heavy as they were, he kept his eyes open to meet the gaze of his lover, and as he came to rest on his side, he watched her thought process unfold across her face.

She was as satisfied as he was, possibly overjoyed even, but he saw confusion and even a little apprehension in her eyes. It took a moment for his sluggish mind to catch up and realize that she was silently fretting over what would happen next. Once he realized it, he quickly set her mind at ease.

He reached out and pulled her close, nestling her against his chest and holding her tightly, assuring her that tonight, there would be no foolish parting of ways or sleeping away from one another. Tonight she would sleep in his arms, and he didn't care if it was wise or not.

He pulled away from her for a moment, only so that he could snatch up a tangled sheet and throw it over them. He caught her eyes as he began to lay back down, and he wished he could forever capture the pure contentment in her eyes. But instead, all he could do was kiss her forehead, then her lips when she offered them.

He didn't say a word, because for once, he didn't think words could possibly do justice to what now lay between them. It was enough, more than enough, to see the little smile on her face after he kissed her, and to hear the contented exhale that left her lungs as she settled into his arms and closed her eyes.

The storm could, and would, return to his troubled mind tomorrow; for now, there was only peace.

**A/N: see, guys? That angst wasn't drawn out, now was it? :p That's not to say there won't be more to come, of course (because there will), but still :) This is probably my favorite chapter so far, next to the opera one, and I've been dying to write it for what feels like forever. It actually ended up the way is planned it in my head, which is rather rare, so I'm extra excited about it :D Thank you to all the reviewers/faves/alerts/lurky lurkersons, and to midnightwings96 for all of her usual awesomeness. Hope you guys all had a lovely and angst-free Christmas! One of my gifts was an autographed, framed Loki pic, so be jealous, people! :p lol. Oh, and since this story broke 200 reviews (YAY!) I owe you guys another bonus chapter, which I haven't started yet but it'll be coming at some point soon. Thanks again for all of the amazing feedback, you guys are awesome :D**


	12. Chapter 12

Aemilia awoke the next morning, comfortably nestled on her stomach in a sea of cool silk, feeling more rested than she had in longer than she could remember. She felt so wonderful, in fact, that she had no desire to fully awaken, so she rolled over to her back and sighed as she sook a few more moments of sleep.

But then, as semi-alertness slowly grew into half-alertness, the memories made the night prior suddenly flooded her mind and her eyes snapped open. She looked first to her left, and then to her right. She was alone.

Feeling slightly bereft despite the onslaught of warm, blissful memories, she sat up in Loki's bed, casting her eyes around his room as morning sunlight swept along the walls. There was no sign of him anywhere, so she let herself lean back against the pillows and headboard, closing her eyes as she stretched.

For once, she was not sore, bruised or even exhausted following a night spent with him. In fact, she felt rather wonderful, and quite shocked that last night had even happened at all. She never would have thought that he could be capable of such tenderness, that he could be so gentle and, dare she say, loving. It struck her and left her feeling even more wondrous to think that they had not merely lain together as they had many times, but for the first time had truly made love. It had been made all the more powerful by the lack of spoken words between them after, how he had taken her in his arms and not even contemplated sending her away.

It was the latest wholly unexpected turn of events, and there had been many of those lately. But this was one that she had needed desperately, without even realizing it.

After a few more moments spent mentally replaying some of the night's best moments, Aemilia realized that should probably get back to her room. Perhaps it was early enough that she could slip back in without Gunnvarr noticing and thus avoiding a potential disapproving glare or speech from her.

She peered over the edge of the bed to look for her clothes, but they were long gone from the floor. She glanced at the sheets, but they were far too huge to even attempt to pull from the bed and cover herself with. However, a slightly lighter shade of emerald green near the foot of the bed caught her eye, and she took a second look and realized there was a silken robe laid out there.

It was rather short and trimmed with black lace on the sleeves and neckline, and she almost rolled her eyes as she picked it up and pulled it over her shoulders. She stood up from the bed and tied it closed at the waist, unsurprised that it reached only her mid-thigh.

After a brief trip to the bathroom, she crept back into Loki's bedchambers to find them empty still. She took a turn about the room, realizing this was the first time she'd ever seen it during the morning hours. It seemed less... overpowering with the soft light filtering through and illuminating the dark shades of green and royal gold throughout.

She spotted a lidded tray near Loki's desk across the room, and for a moment she debated picking at whatever food lay there or going back to her room. The choice became clear, however, when she considered the considerable walking distance between rooms and the fact that she still had yet to find her dress anywhere.

She walked to the tray and removed the lid, her stomach noisily appreciating the sight of what could have been a royal breakfast sampler. A bit of everything, not too much of anything. She wondered if Loki had chosen it for her sake, since he didn't know her taste in breakfast foods, or if his own tastes were simply this widely varied.

Also on the tray was a glass half filled with something that looked like tea. She picked it up and sniffed at it, then immediately realized it was the contraceptive potion she hadn't taken in more than a week. She then drained it in a few gulps, thankful for Loki's penchant to truly think of _everything_. She might not have remembered to take the drink for a few more days. She then turned to the food and began plucking at it.

She'd downed a few plump berries and half of a fruity little pastry when she felt a sudden cold chill on the back of her neck. A smile graced her lips - she was no longer alone.

"You're late to rise."

His voice was silky and she felt it vibrate lightly against her skin as he grazed his lips along her neck; his arm enclosed around her waist. She smiled. "Not normally. I happened to sleep exceptionally well last night."

He chuckled against her cheek, leaving a little kiss there before answering, "As did I."

She turned her head then and met his gaze before catching his lips with hers. This didn't seem real, this ease between them, at this hour of the day. She'd meant it when she told them that their relationship could not be as it had been before, but the idea that he'd taken her words to heart was surprising.

He hummed into the kiss when she reached a hand into his hair. She was about to turn and draw him fully against her when he drew away, a small grin on his lips as he took her hand in his. He turned and sat down in a small chair at the table, then tugged on her hand and led her down to sit sideways on his lap.

"Where were you?" she asked as Loki pulled the tray of food closer to them.

"Here and there," he answered vaguely, smirking at her as he picked up one of the same berries she'd been sampling. "Saw my mother and made my amends for my... ungrateful behavior yesterday."

He held the berry up to her mouth, and her eyes flickered from it to his eyes as she took a graceful bite. He watched her mouth greedily, then ate the rest of the berry himself. His free hand was on her hip, holding her close to him, and her arm was draped around his shoulders - it felt wonderfully comfortable to be with him like this.

"She's rather fond of you," Loki added absently, grabbing another berry and offering it again. She took a bite. "I don't think I realized quite how much until yesterday."

"Why?" she asked. He didn't move to finish the berry himself, so she then took the rest of it, making sure that her lips closed over the tips of his fingers as she did. Her eyes stayed on his as she lingered just slightly too long, and to her surprise, a bit of color filled his cheeks just before she pulled away. The blush was extremely subtle, but it was there. She smiled as his eyes stayed on her lips even after she'd swallowed the berry. "Loki?"

His eyes blinked and then snapped up to hers. "What?"

"You're blushing," she smiled.

He narrowed his eyes. "I am not."

Her smile grew. "You are."

"I do not blush."

She thought he was oddly adorable in that moment, not that she'd ever say the word out loud in his presence. That would earn his indignation far more than an accusation of a blush. Instead, she leaned down and pressed her lips to the expanse of his neck visible between the edges of his high collar.

He leaned his head back slightly to give her better access, letting out a breath as she ran her hand over his chest. He was in his usual layers of clothing and leather that made it hard for her to feel him through it all, but that didn't stop her. His pulse fluttered against her lips as she nibbled and then sucked at it, and then his free hand was reaching into her lap, tugging at the silk tie around her waist holding her robe together.

The hand on her hip rose up to grip a handful of her hair and pry her away from his neck. Their gazes met and he let his eyes flicker down to her lips briefly as he took the hand not in her hair and pushed one sleeve of the now-open robe off of her shoulders. His voice was pure velvet as he began to speak. "When I awoke this morning to the sight of you in my bed... barely covered by my sheets and sleeping soundly... it took a great deal of self control for me to not wake you and have you again."

"Why didn't you?" she asked, taking her arm out of the sleeve he'd pushed down.

He immediately cupped the breast her motion exposed, watching his hand upon it as he replied, "I have duties that I cannot always shirk. Not even when I desperately want to."

She covered his busy hand with hers, and the urge to speak to him about what had transpired last night was suddenly overwhelming. Though she wanted his touch, she drew his hand away, and in remembrance of one of the many heart-stopping moments from the night before, she laced her fingers through his and held his hand tightly in her own. He looked down at their joined hands and then raised them to press a kiss to hers, then met her gaze with a glimmer of the same sweetness he'd shown her last night.

Her heart swelled like a balloon on the verge of bursting. "I don't think I can properly tell you how... last night... I..."

He silenced her with a kiss, taking her hand and placing it in his hair. Then he drew away and murmured, "You don't have to say anything."

"I want to," she replied, looking up into his eyes and seeing a trace of apprehension in his eyes. It shouldn't have surprised her. As enormous of a step as they'd taken the night before, the journey was yet only beginning.

She decided on something that she hoped was safe to say. "I meant everything that I said."

"As did I," he replied before kissing her again, this time deeper and with a greater passion.

Both of her hands were in his previously immaculate hair, laying waste to it as they kissed hungrily. She felt his hand at her knee, sliding over it and then pressing it away from her other one, and then his hand was crawling up her thigh, inching higher, and when he reached center, he broke away from their kiss and let out a huff of a chuckle.

"Woman," he groaned against her lips. "You are _gushing_."

"Are you surprised?"

"No," came his still-strained sounding response as he let his fingers just barely brush against her. "Though I suspect that if I were to set my mouth to you, I would surely drown."

She laughed softly but his eyes caught her cheeks flushing. His fingers pressed gently into her, and she gasped quietly and reached for another kiss, but he moved his head away before she could touch his lips. He grinned and touched his nose to hers as he asked in a mischievous whisper, "Who's blushing now?"

She smiled again and dropped her face down to his neck, moving her hips against his insistent fingers, but his free hand grabbed her hair and pulled her back. "Don't," he purred, kissing her and adding, "I want to watch the heat burning under your skin."

The hungry tone of his voice made her flush deeper, as was surely his intention, and she moaned as he began moving his hand faster. She felt him hard underneath her lap, straining and occasionally grinding slightly against her thighs, but she didn't have the presence of mind to tend to his needs quite yet. His lips were kissing underneath her ear and then nipping at her earlobe, and as his fingers worked he whispered into her ear again.

"Close already, darling?"

She nodded and moaned in response. He smiled and kissed her lips, then increased his pace again. She had to hold on to his hair with both hands to withstand the change.

"Think of what you'll do after you've finished," he whispered, after drawing a wet line up her neck with the tip of his tongue. "How you will repay me. Think of me spilling in your hand, or your hair wrapped around my hand as I thrust into your wet little mouth -"

Her sudden cry interrupted him, and her nails dug into his scalp as she clenched down around his hand, like a vice. She curled against him rather than arch, shaking as she rode it out, her body releasing its firm grasp on his fingers only when the last little tremble had faded away.

She laid her head on his shoulder, her breathing slowly returning to normal. He ran his hand gently up and down her back as his voice rumbled against her cheek. "One day I will see if my words alone are enough to make you come apart."

"And one day I will discover all the ways in which I can make you blush again," she replied with a grin, raising her head and placing a small kiss to his lips as her hand went to his lap. She began undoing the laces holding him back as he laughed at her.

"I told you, silly girl, I do not blush," he said in amusement. "I once did, when I was as young and inexperienced as you are. But I have not since."

She narrowed her eyes at him, as she pulled him free from his pants and watched as the contact made his jaw unconconsciously tighten. "So, what you're telling me is that other women have made you blush, but not me."

He shrugged. "I was once like you, or as you were before, having to be taught how to please a lover. And I was far younger than you."

She didn't answer his words, nor move the hand that was wrapped idly around him. He twitched in her grip, but she still didn't move. He raised an eyebrow to her.

"Am I detecting a hint of jealousy?"

Judging by his grin, he was relishing such an idea. She rolled her eyes. "I prefer not to think on how many others have warmed your bed in the last thousand years."

"You should be thanking them," he said with a falsely innocent expression. "You get to reap the rewards of the skills I honed with them."

"I am merely one of many," she shrugged, giving him an unexpected squeeze. His body tensed.

He looked at her in slight irritation, as if he was truly annoyed that he had to say what he next did. "You are not _merely_ anything. You are the only one to have ever slept in my bed."

She blinked at him, at first unable to believe him. In all of those years, he'd never allowed a single other woman to stay the night? "Do not lie to me."

"I am not," he replied.

Her heart was on the verge of swelling again. She hoped that he was telling the truth.

He hissed when her hand finally finally gave him a slow, thorough stroke. She kissed him when his lips slightly parted, then worked her way up to a steady rhythm that quickly had him rolling against her.

She nipped at his bottom lip when he tried to draw away for a breath, and he gripped her hair tightly as he spoke in a whisper against her lips. "Kneel for me."

It was the first command he'd issued her in a long time, and rather than anger or annoy her, it made her shiver and instantly comply. She kissed him one more time before sliding her legs off of his lap and letting her feet touch the floor. Her knees came next, and her hand kept working all the while, and his hand remained fisted in her hair as she knelt between his legs.

He leaned forward when she replaced her hand with her mouth, bracing himself on the table's edge as she took him as deeply as she could. The pulsing between her legs began anew as she listened to him groan and felt his hand in her hair gently push and pull, guiding her as she met each thrust of his hips. Then, just as her renewed arousal almost became too much to bear, she was suddenly wrenched away and flipped around against the table.

"Grip the table," she heard him growl into her ear as she was still processing what had just happened. She grabbed the sides of the table just in time, before he yanked up the flimsy fabric on her hips and pushed her down flat on the table. They both moaned as he thrust inside of her.

He bent down over her as he took her, and she relished his lack of restraint or care. She'd loved the achingly sweeter side of him that she'd met the night before, but his dominant, rougher side was also decadently satisfying, something she craved more than she ever would have thought she would. The table skidded slightly forward as he pounded into her, and his teeth scraping at the nape of her neck nicely emphasized the balance of pleasure and pain that he was so good at maintaining.

Then, just as she felt the familiar coiling and building tension begin in her belly, he withdrew from her so quickly that it made her yelp in surprise. He spun her around and then picked her up, placing her on the very edge of the table and entering her again, looking her in the eye as he began at a slightly slower pace.

One arm held her against him by her waist while his other hand kept its favored place in her hair. She gripped his shoulders and looked up at him with just slightly wide eyes as she rocked against him, legs wound tightly around his hips.

"I was a fool before," he whispered, taking her lips between words. "But I won't let you go again. Even if you wanted me to, even if you begged me to, I will not. You are mine, do you understand?"

She nodded jerkily, then moaned as he kissed her again. He roughly palmed a breast between the silk of her open robe, teasing the peak with his thumb as he broke away and spoke again. "Now beg me to let you come again."

His demand alone almost did it, but she managed to hold back as he tilted her back slightly and began moving at a new angle. His mouth dropped down to her breast and began a torturous assault there, and she managed to squeak out a plea amid a chorus of broken curses.

Then his lips were briefly back on hers, and when he pulled away he growled, "You can do better than that. I _said_," he thrusted almost painfully sharply, "_beg_."

She groaned and then pulled desperately at his hair as she moaned out louder pleas mixed with near-shouts of his name, and only when he was satisfied with her frantic words did he slide a hand between them. The first touch of his hand sent her careening and moaning out her end.

He followed right after, biting down on her shoulder as he jerked against her. She held him close with limbs that felt like limp noodles, his breath tickling her neck as he slowly came down from his own high.

She leaned her cheek on his head, gently running her fingers through his now-sweat dampened hair, only opening her eyes when he slowly raised himself up and kissed her lips.

He chuckled when he pulled away, brushing his nose against hers. "You're late."

She blinked up at him. "Late?"

His grin was maddening. "Your rehearsal was meant to start an hour ago."

Her jaw dropped and she all but shoved him away, grabbing at her robe to close it and hopping down to her feet. Gravity instantly brought a warm trickle down her thigh, but it was her absolute last concern as she began panicking. "I forgot! How could I forget?! And you knew! You knew and you just _now_ remind me?

"You were at the service of your Prince, Aemilia, I think they'll understand," Loki grinned wickedly, fixing his trousers as she glowered at him.

She wanted to rail at him, but she simply didn't have the time now, and she had far more immediate concerns - like the fact that she still needed clothes. She began tearing around the room aimlessly. "Where's my dress? What happened to it? What did you do with it?"

She heard him merely snicker in return, and when she spun around to yell at him, she felt fabric lapping at her ankles. She looked down to find a long, sleeveless dress suddenly on her frame, one with a slightly low neckline that did nothing to mask the little tiny marks that now littered her neck and shoulder. It was all a deep shade of emerald green, of course.

She was in no position to complain about it, of course. His magic had even cleaned her up as well as clothed her. She merely narrowed her eyes at him and said, "I'm still angry with you. And I wish to learn how to do this trick myself."

He smiled. "All in due time, little student."

She sighed and began rushing towards the door. He grabbed her by the wrist before she could pass him and pulled her close for a titillatingly deep kiss.

He grinned at her when he finally released her. "I will come for you when you're finished."

She looked at him a bit warily, but nodded all the same before sprinting off. She had a feeling this was only the first small taste of the mischief she'd experience while living here under the same roof as the younger Prince.

* * *

Right after Aemilia had gone scrambling off to the music room, a guard had come to Loki's door and informed him that Odin required his presence in the throne room. He went then, and stood beside Thor as Odin told them both of various coming events, foreign envoys that would be arriving to witness Thor's coronation, and their duties during this time. Thor was annoyed that he had any "duties" at all, being the one who was being celebrated, after all, and Loki was already aware of everything Odin was informing them of. His expression was one of quiet interest while his mind was utterly detached, drifting either to the fantastic morning he'd had or to his continuing dilemma of figuring out how to ruin this very event that he was pretending to care about.

He wasn't expecting Thor to walk with him out of the throne room and follow him as he began making his way down the hallways, immediately launching into grumbles about what they'd just heard. Loki only bothered to listen halfway through.

"... and Father knows this! What does he expect me to do with the Elves when they come? I should be drinking and dancing and fighting during my time of celebration, not holding the hand of an aging Elven King and giving him a grand tour of Asgard."

Loki snorted. "I'm fairly certain that as King, you will be required to do your fair share of diplomatic hand-holding rather frequently."

"But that's what I have you for!" Thor laughed. Loki gave him a sideways look, but as much as he tried to scowl at his brother, he ended up smiling anyway.

"Yes, I suppose that's true."

They rounded a comer, and Thor asked, "Are you aware of yourself right now, brother?"

Loki furrowed his brow and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Look at you! You are smiling, you are not stomping down these halls for once, and I know when you're only pretending to pay attention to Father," Thor grinned. "Do my eyes deceive me, or are you happy?"

The smile on Loki's face grew. He was almost disturbed by how he couldn't stop it. "I... merely have had a particularly marvelous morning."

"Ah," Thor chuckled. "I wonder who you could possibly have to thank for that? I take it you two have made amends, then."

"Yes, one could say that," Loki replied, still grinning.

"Good! I am happy to hear it," Thor said, patting - or really, thumping - Loki on the back. "I've never seen you look so smitten in your life. Bring the lady to the training grounds later - let our friends and I get to better know this lady who's so entranced you."

Loki's smile faltered a bit then, as he had no desire to do such a thing.

"Do it or I will find you and drag you both there myself," Thor warned with a smile before walking off.

Loki pursed his lips, knowing that Thor was not bluffing. He remembered very vividly one time that he had refused to come along on one of Thor's many adventures, and Thor had literally thrown him over his shoulder - in front of not only the Warriors Three and Sif, but Odin as well - and dragged him out of the palace. That was before he had perfected the art of vanishing, but he had managed to blast Thor's feet and send them both tumbling to the ground, but it had been humiliating nonetheless. He had no wish to repeat such a moment.

Not that he was going to let it get him down. He set off once more, a spring in his step and the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face.

* * *

Before Loki could make good on his earlier promise to come and fetch Aemilia once her practicing was done, the Queen intercepted her first. She found herself in Frigga's private rooms again, this time taking lunch with her, feeling more and more at ease with the Queen the more that she was around her.

"I hope you did not take offense to my actions yesterday," Frigga said after a few moments of light conversation.

"Oh, no, not at all," Aemilia quickly said, shaking her head.

"It's just that I know how stubborn Loki is, and he had been in such a foul mood after the setbacks he's suffered," the Queen said. "I knew that he would waste a great deal of time ignoring you, so I took matters into my own hands."

"You have my gratitude," Aemilia said sincerely. "He was quite nasty at first, but... I believe we've come to a truce."

"More than that, judging by the blush on his his cheek this morning when I asked him why Gunnvarr could not locate you."

Aemilia almost choked on the tea that she'd been sipping. "Oh. Well..."

"Relax, dear," Frigga smiled. "He also told me of your recent discoveries regarding your heritage. And that you wished to know more about your true father."

Aemilia blinked, her brief mortification fading quickly at the change of subject. "He did?"

Frigga nodded. "I do not know of this Eileifr, but I will inquire - discreetly - on your behalf, if you would like."

"I would," Aemilia said, suddenly a bit overwhelmed. "Thank you. Loki really told you of this today?"

"Yes," Frigga smiled. "You seem surprised."

"Well... I suppose that I am just... unnaccustomed," she shrugged, looking down at the cup of tea in her hands.

"Unaccustomed to what?"

Aemilia was about to answer that she was unaccustomed to Loki outwardly showing that he cared for her when a slight commotion across the room drew both women's attention. The door to the hallway opened and Loki strode inside, brushing off a fussing servant, smiling at his mother and lover as he walked up to the table.

"I had a feeling that my mother had stolen you off," Loki said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. Aemilia smiled slightly shyly at him, and he turned his eyes to Frigga. "Might I steal her back?"

"I suppose," Frigga smiled. "Though I insist you both join me for dinner tonight, in the Great Hall. You are my guest, Aemilia, and I want you to experience the full splendor of your new life here, in the palace of Asgard."

Aemilia smiled in response, then caught Loki's slightly smirking gaze upon her. She almost narrowed her eyes at him, seeing the playful spark in his eyes and wondering exactly how hard it was for him to not make a comment about all the "splendor" he'd already made sure that she experienced. Instead, she addressed the Queen once more. "Of course, Your Highness. And thank you, truly, once again."

Frigga nodded, and Loki offered a hand to help Aemilia up. She took it, and Loki bade farewell to his mother before turning and leading Aemilia out of the room. She was the first to speak once they'd entered the hallways, no longer holding hands.

"Shall I ask what you have in store for me, my prince?" Aemilia asked playfully, excited for whatever his answer may be.

"Well, I thought that I would give you a proper tour of the palace, since I'm fairly certain you've only seen perhaps one-eighth of it," Loki remarked, catching her gaze as they walked. "Then we will end the tour in the training grounds, where my brother demanded our company for the afternoon."

"Oh," Aemilia replied, her tone just slightly surprised.

He shot her a look. "Were you expecting something else?"

She shook her head and smiled. "I've come to realize that when it comes to you, it's best not to try to predict but simply enjoy the surprises."

He grinned. "Interesting. And wise."

* * *

"That is my father's council room," Loki said, glancing at Aemilia halfway through the tour to find her still completely interested in what he was saying. They stood in front a large room with wide-open doors, and Aemilia peered into it to find little more than an enormous golden table lined with many chairs. "My brother and I used to sneak under the table when our Father was in here with his advisors, and I'd bind their feet together with magic. They'd stand and immediately topple over in a heap on each other, and Thor would give us away by laughing too loudly."

Aemilia laughed, and he smiled as he led her forward. She seemed to love when he'd give an anecdote with each new part of the palace that they'd cover, so he tried to give her at least one with each new bit of covered ground. One that he didn't have a story for was the next pair of doors they happened upon.

The doors were enormous and had two guards stationed in front of each one. Aemilia eyed them and asked, "What's that?"

"That is the weapons vault," Loki replied, continuing to walk her past it. He grinned at her and added, "Full of dark and ancient relics. The room that our enemies would sacrifice their firstborn children for the chance to break into."

"What sort of relics?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at his words.

"I believe the most recent one to be the Casket of Ancient Winters. My Father took it in the last Great War against Jotunheim."

Aemilia visibly shuddered. "My father fought in that war. Nothing phases him, generally, but when one speaks of Frost Giants in his presence... it's the only time I see the ghost of fear in his eyes."

"They remain, but they are few. The only way they could hope to regain their power would be to take the Casket back, and they have no hope of penetrating our borders alone."

That was when it hit him. It hit him so hard and so clearly that he nearly stopped dead in the middle of the corridor and threw himself to his knees to praise his own brilliance.

He knew how to ruin the coronation.

It would be so _easy_. Almost elegantly perfect. And beautifully effective.

The best part was, nobody would ever know that it was him who'd masterminded it.

"What's so amusing?"

He looked at Aemilia and realized that he was grinning rather widely. It was alright - he had the perfect way to cover up his sudden glee.

"The next stop on our tour," he said, suddenly grabbing her wrist and hurtling her towards an alcove, "is here."

She gasped in surprise when she did not collide with a stone wall but instead became enveloped in near-pitch darkness. He chuckled and pulled her to his chest, then pressed her against a cold wall, grazing her lips with his as she whimpered.

"Wha-"

"This is one of many secret passageways," he purred before ravaging her mouth with a hard, dizzyingly deep kiss. His epiphany had come and left him feeling utterly high, brimming with a twisted excitement and relief, and the best way he could think of to burn off the sudden energy was to throw her into this dark little cavern and feel her body tremble against his.

She moaned a little and clutched at him, laughing a little bit once she recovered from the shock of what had happened. She kissed him in return, matching his fervor, and her fingertips creeping up into his hair made him shiver against her.

"This particular passage," he breathed between kisses, "is my own creation. Only I... and now you... know of its existence."

His lips trailed to her neck, and she exhaled shakily as she gripped his hair. "Are - are there a lot of these throughout the palace?"

"Oh yes," he grinned, tongue flicking out and stealing a taste of her skin. Then he raised his head up and nipped at her ear as he whispered, "There are more than enough to accommodate us should my lust for you overtake me, no matter where we are in this palace."

His lips collided with hers again, and she moaned again. The sound was enough to inflame his passions and compel him to take her right there, and he knew she would have let him. It was tempting.

But instead, after he'd thoroughly explored her mouth and had her panting and squirming against him, he released his hold on her by all but his hand that clamped her wrist. He then sent them out of the passageway as quickly as he'd sent them into it, and Aemilia panted as she found herself back in the main corridors.

"Enjoying the tour?" he grinned, releasing his hold on her wrist.

She laughed shakily as he strode forward, following him as she replied, "A bit too much, I fear."

* * *

Her favorite part of the tour, even more than the stolen kisses in the secret passageway, was hearing the lighthearted tales he told of when he was child, making trouble everywhere he could and dragging his brother along with him. A few of the stories had the roles reversed, with Thor being the one to lead Loki astray, and they all ended the same way - with Frigga sparing them any real punishment, which only led to further, bolder mischief in the future.

Loki's eyes would sparkle as he told the tales, and it was refreshing to hear him speak of his life and his family in a way that he hadn't before. He also spoke of his brother differently, in a way that made her notice how he seemed to truly miss the days he spoke of, when they were inseparable and a team of harmlessly destructive little brothers out to wreak havoc. Loki seemed to be a mostly solitary creature these days, judging by what little she truly knew of him, and she was beginning to suspect that it wasn't really by choice.

She also had several other suspicions by the end of the tour, as they began making their way out to the training grounds. Every now and then, when one or several servant girls would pass by them in the halls, some of them would gaze longingly at the Prince and others would glare stonily at him. Very few would not look at all. None of them so much as noticed Aemilia's existence.

"Have you done something to cause nearly all of the young female servants to act strangely when they see you?" Aemilia inquired as they stepped out of the palace and into the midday sun. It was a cool, beautiful day, and she gulped down the fresh air as Loki looked at her quizzically.

"I'm sorry?"

"They either look at you like you're the last cake on a dessert table, or like you're a particularly foul bit of excrement they've just stepped in."

As if to make her point, a servant girl bearing a basket of grains appeared, walking past them towards the palace, and the girl looked up at Loki before furiously blushing and hastily casting her eyes down to the ground as she hurried on. Aemilia turned to Loki and raised an eyebrow.

He smiled sheepishly. "Ah. Well... I'm sure it's not hard to deduce why some of them blush at me while others appear to revile me."

She squinted at him and said, "Do you mean to tell me... you bedded all of these servants? Is that not... I don't know... below your station?"

"First of all, no, very few servants ever touched my bed but for to make it. That's not say I didn't find other uses for them." Aemilia grimaced, and he grinned. "Secondly, it would be below my station to court them, not to have them tend to me when they offer. I suspect the ones that blush caught me in more generous moods than the others did."

She lifted her hands as they walked, shaking her head. "Stop. _Stop_. I don't want to know."

"But you asked," he chuckled, clearly amused with her squeamish reaction. "Would you rather I lie to you?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's just... difficult to wrap my head around."

"I believe that you are jealous for the second time today," he smiled. "Would you like to hear my personal tally?"

"No!" she exclaimed, making him laugh. "No, and I would prefer that I never do hear it."

"For what its worth, my number is far lower than my brother's," Loki replied, visibly thoroughly enjoying he fluster. "I'm far more conservative than you suspect."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "I don't believe there is a single conservative bone in your body. And do not make a jest about what I just said."

He chuckled and eyed her appreciatively. "You are coming to know me all too well, my lady."

She was going to roll her eyes at him, but the sound of metal clanking on metal and masculine grunts caught her attention. Without even realizing it, they'd now reached the training grounds.

"Come along," Loki said, his tone cheerful as he led her down a number of stone stairs. "Time for me to show you off."

She warmed at his words, which helped to wash away the slight unpleasantness of the previous conversation. It was not surprising to learn of some of his dalliances, but it was... jarring, if only due to the proximity of the servants and due to the inequality of she and Loki's personal histories. But, she knew better than to dwell on it.

Currently, the Warriors Three were in the midst of mock-battle while Thor and Lady Sif watched, speaking amongst themselves. Thor noticed the new arrivals first, smiling brightly as his voice boomed across the grounds. "Ah! My brother and his lady have arrived!"

She smiled, wholly unaccustomed to being addressed as such, and reminded herself that she'd met each of these five famous people before, and that she had little reason to be nervous. Of all of them, Sif was the only one who was looking at her strangely - not in an unfriendly manner, but perhaps surprised that the singer the warrior woman had been vaguely acquainted with was now suddenly Loki's "lady".

"Aha!" Fandral exclaimed, merrily dropping his sword downward as he strode towards the others. "At last! We meet again!"

There was a small flurry of greetings then, first from Thor, a warm one from Sif that belied her previous confused look, and a kiss on her hand from Fandral that made Loki roll his eyes. Hogun gave her a nod and Volstagg gave she and Loki both hearty shoulder-pats. Then the questions began.

"Now Loki, you sly little rat, tell us where you've been hiding this lovely maiden," Fandral said, grinning at Aemilia.

"Yes, exactly how long have the pair of you been... a pair?" Sif asked cautiously.

Loki and Aemilia both opened their mouths, he to tell them that it was none of their business and she to protest the accusation of being hidden away, but Thor beat them both to it. "He's been smitten with the lady since she first sang at the palace months ago!"

"Months!" Volstagg hollered. "No wonder Loki's been a stranger as of late!"

"Well, then it's about time you stop hogging her all to yourself!" Fandral addressed Loki before turning his gaze to Aemilia and smiling. "Say," he pulled his sword from its sheath and held it proudly before her, "would you mind lending me a hand polishing my sword?"

Loki groaned. "And you wonder why I've been 'hogging her all to myself'."

Aemilia laughed. "I believe you have two perfectly serviceable hands of your own to tend to your sword, my lord."

Everyone, very nearly even Hogun, had a good laugh at that. Thor looked around and said enthusiastically, "Do you see, my friends? Did I not say how feisty she was? Why, just yesterday, after I so graciously greeted her to the palace, she gave me quite the tongue-lashing on Loki's behalf."

Aemilia could feel Loki eyeing her curiously, and she merely shrugged and said, "I meant no offense, Your Grace. It is only that I find arrogance unbecoming, even of a Prince."

Thor laughed again, while the others stared at her in slight shock. "I do hope that applies to my brother as well."

"It applies to everyone," Aemilia smiled back.

"Well, then I fear you will not be impressed with any of the men currently in our presence," Sif remarked. "Arrogance and the male gender go hand in hand as it is, but for a man who is also a warrior..." Sif raised her eyebrows meaningfully as she trailed off.

"A warrior's confidence should never be mistaken for arrogance," Thor said, raising a finger to emphasize his point.

"I would ask you to please explain the difference, brother, but I do not wish to cause my guest to fall asleep from sheer boredom," Loki remarked.

"Indeed," Fandral agreed. "Let us provide the lady with entertainment! Care to challenge me, Loki?"

"I would ask the same but I do not wish to embarrass my brother in front of our company," Thor said smugly.

Aemilia glanced at Loki, expecting him to look irritated or annoyed, but his face was a perfect mask of indifference. He opted to simply ignore his brother. "Come on, Fandral."

Fandral laughed and then walked off with Loki, towards the center of the clearing, and Aemilia shared a small smile with Loki before Thor's hand thumped down on her shoulder and nearly knocked her over.

"I like you, I do," he grinned. "And please, do not misunderstand the way that I jest and carry on with Loki. It's the way we've always been. He knows I mean no harm."

Aemilia wasn't so sure about that, but she held her tongue and nodded anyway. She didn't want to speak too freely around the older Prince, since she doubted he'd always be so entertained by what she had to say. Plus, as quietly pleased as Loki had seemed at Thor's recounting of her defense of him, she doubted he would want her mouthing off in his favor at every turn.

Meanwhile, across the way, Loki had pulled out a sword of his own from the literal thin air and was casually walking closer to Fandral, who was tossing his own sword back and forth between his hands. Thor crossed his arms and cast a glance to the friends standing at his side. "I wager on Fandral."

Sif snorted. "Loki will cheat."

"Sif is right," Hogun agreed.

"Fandral has outsmarted Loki plenty before," Volstagg interjected. "I wager him."

Aemilia kept silent, a prickle of a thrill sparking in her veins when Loki's sword slashed through the air first. Fandral blocked him and Loki advanced on him almost casually, smiling as he brought the sword forward here and there, easily ducking out of the way and circling around when Fandral tried to strike back and put him on the defensive.

"No cheating as of yet," Volstagg commented.

Sif snorted again. "_Yet_ being the operative word."

Aemilia turned her gaze to Sif and the Lady caught it before quickly turning back to the two sparring men. Fandral was laughing and Loki was grinning as they clashed, making it a wholly different experience to watch this fight as opposed to the vicious one between Loki and Thor.

"Now, now," Thor said, "perhaps now that his lady is watching, he'll leave the tricks out."

Aemilia furrowed her brows and decided to Hel with her previous decision - this was becoming rather annoying. She turned to Thor and said incredulously, "His 'tricks' are his strength - why should he not use them? Should you not wield your hammer because it is magical?"

Sif stared at her like she was insane, Thor glanced at her with his lips parted dumbly, and Volstagg considered her words while Hogun remained his usual silent self.

Eventually, Volstagg shrugged and broke the silence. "The Lady makes a fair observance."

"His tricks are deceitful," Sif argued, "and therefore dishonorable as a warrior."

"I'm sure they've proven useful in battle," Aemilia said quietly.

"It's the principal of it," Sif grumbled in reply.

"Enough, ladies," Thor chuckled, trying to lighten the sudden slight tension in the air. "No need to quarrel over something trivial."

But Aemilia couldn't understand the prejudice towards Loki and his magic. She understood that Asgard valued physical strength and power above all else, and that its warriors did even more so, but Loki's talents had a place in battle just as Thor's or Sif's did. She was no expert on war or battle but she did know that - it seemed to be a rather simple concept.

Her attention refocused when she saw Fandral swipe Loki's sword straight from his hand and sent it flying to the ground. A few strategic kicks sent Loki to his knees, facing away from Fandral, and the warrior laughed as he held the tip of his sword to the back of Loki's neck.

"I take it you yield, Your Highness?"

Quick as a blink, Loki looked up through the black hair falling in his eyes, met Aemilia's gaze and winked. Then he vanished and reappeared directly behind Fandral, sword back in hand, and he kicked the backs of the warrior's knees and disarmed him in the same breath. Their positions were reversed now, but for good measure, Loki threw another kick his way and sent Fandral down to his back, blade now skimming his throat. Fandral rolled his eyes and groaned in slight pain, letting his head hit the ground.

"What was that about yielding?" Loki gloated.

"Yes, yes, you win, let me up," Fandral sighed.

Loki chuckled and helped the man back up to his feet. "Always a pleasure."

Fandral eyed him warily and muttered, "You know, you are far better company in your female form."

Loki grinned. "I wonder why."

Meanwhile, Sif raised an eyebrow to both Thor and Aemilia and said, "I told you he would cheat. It's all he knows."

Sif then marched out to the clearing, withdrawing her double-edged weapon as she did. Thor grinned and muttered, "I do enjoy sparring when she's angry," then followed her out, just in time to pass Loki on the way and give him a shoulder-thump.

The sword vanished between his hands as Loki strode up to where Thor had stood earlier, next to Aemilia. She smiled only very slightly at his smug expression, and he immediately caught the fact that she wasn't as satisfied with his victory as he was.

Volstagg and Hogun wandered off to cheer up Fandral with another mock battle, and Loki took the opportunity to lead Aemilia to a nearby bench and sit her down beside him.

"What's bothering you?" he asked as she looked up at him, suppressing the urge to reach up and fix his now-ruffled hair.

"I do not like the way they speak of you," she answered honestly, seeing no point in saying otherwise. "Especially Lady Sif. I never realized how... poorly she thought of you."

Loki chuckled. "Ah, yes. She's never forgiven me for the... hair incident, when we were children."

She furrowed her brows. "Hair incident?"

Loki nodded, sitting back and running a hand through his hair as he spoke. "Yes... it's quite the legend now. I'm surprised that you've not heard of it. Thor teased me about my ... _odd-colored_ hair one day. She was there, playing with us. She began to tease me as well. You see, back then, she had a gloriously long mane of perfect golden hair. The same color as Thor's. She made a jest that it would be more believable if she claimed to be Thor's sibling, as opposed to me. So... I snuck into her room one night as she slept, and I cut her hair within a mere inch of her head."

Aemilia's jaw dropped. Loki merely grinned. "That's..."

"Evil?" Loki supplied, turning his gaze upwards and pretending to consider the concept. "Perhaps. It's said that her resulting screams the following morning awoke sleeping giants in our neighboring realms."

"But... why is her hair no longer blonde?"

Loki's grin widened. "That's the best part. In order to make amends, my mother sent me to some dwarves to retrieve a new head of hair that would be placed over hers and restore it to all its former glory. But... when she received the new hair, rather than grow back her natural shade... it grew as black and _odd_ as mine."

Aemilia slowly trailed her gaze away, towards the woman in question. Her long, black hair flew magnificently around her head as she sparred with Thor. "The color does suit her."

"I agree." Loki mused.

"But that was quite a terrible thing to do. Though I do not deny the nastiness of her transgression."

"You would think that after a thousand years, she would have forgiven my little prank. But she has held nothing but distrust and contempt for me ever since."

"I do not blame her," Aemilia shrugged. "But it does not excuse the manner in which she speaks of you."

Loki turned to her then, his eyes suddenly a bit more serious as he said, "Surely the manner in which she speaks of me does not come as a surprise to you. I'm well aware of what others say when they don't believe that I'm listening."

"But... they call your magic 'tricks' and 'cheating' when -"

"Aemilia," Loki interrupted, and the sound of her name on his lips brought an involuntary jolt in her stomach. "Your own mother forbade you to learn magic, did she not? You are far from unfamiliar with how magic is viewed by the people. You know how _I_ am viewed by the people."

Aemilia swallowed, not looking him in the eye as she replied. "I hoped for better from your friends."

Loki's jaw set as he watched her continue to look ahead rather than meet his eyes. "They are not my friends."

"What of your brother?" she asked, finally looking up at him.

His voice dropped low, to an almost deadly seriousness. "I love Thor more more dearly than any of them could ever hope to."

Suddenly, she understood something that she had a feeling was crucial in some way. Loki, true to the jealous, possessive man that he'd shown himself to be to her, was jealous for his brother. Even his love for his brother was greedy and selfish.

Loki looked away, discomfort suddenly flickering across his features. Aemilia held her tongue - she had no wish to try to coax more from him and make him feel more uncomfortable.

"Come," Loki sighed, standing up and reaching out for her. "They've all occupied themselves, and they can see you more over dinner later if they wish."

Aemilia nodded and placed her hand in his.

* * *

From the training grounds, Loki took Aemilia on a walk through the rest of the outside grounds, showing her some of the springs and gardens that surrounded the palace. Along the way he asked her to show him what magic she'd taught herself from his book so far, and though it was only the most elementary things, she obliged. He, in turn, showed her how to conjure a ball of light to illuminate their path as darkness began to fall on the day, and then proceeded to do everything he could to break her concentration. But, she was learning to control her focus better - she only let the light fade a handful of times, and only when he'd do something unfair like kiss her or conjure a double for her to walk straight into.

In all, it was possibly the most time they'd ever spent together in one day, and surely the most words exchanged as well. It was nice. Even when a somewhat tense subject arose, like at the training grounds, the tension did not linger into the next conversation. She'd always found him easy to talk to, but he was even more so now, it seemed.

Eventually, when dusk had set fully, Loki reluctantly let her go to her room to prepare for dinner. She let Gunnvarr fuss and fix her up for the better part of an hour, though she didn't particularly enjoy the treatment, but she had little choice when it came to the oddly headstrong servant.

After, once she was dressed in a shimmering silver long-sleeved gown that Gunnvarr had insisted upon and primped with a headful of half-pinned curls, she let the servant happily lead her down to the Great Hall. The sounds of merriment could be heard throughout the entire hallway that led there, and once Aemilia stepped inside the enormous room, she couldn't help but shake her head with a slight smile.

The hall was utterly filled with loud, exuberant men and women, feasting and drinking and laughing and celebrating nothing other than the simple passing of another day. In the center of it all was the loudest table, filled with familiar faces; Thor, in the midst of tossing a goblet to the floor and demanding another, next to Sif who was rolling her eyes at Fandral, who was sitting next to her and holding his sword as three giddy maidens literally polished it, all while Volstagg chewed on a huge leg of something and Hogun ate silently. Naturally, Thor noticed Aemilia's arrival first, and he smiled broadly as his voice boomed across the hall for her to come and join them.

"I'll be here if you have need of me, my lady," Gunnvarr chirped, and Aemilia nodded before setting off. She glanced up at the highest table and caught the Queen's eye as she sat at the King's side, sharing a smile with her before looking around, hoping to spot Loki somewhere. She didn't.

"I was wondering when you would find your way here!" Thor greeted loudly when she arrived at the table. The others smiled at her and Volstagg was the first to clamber over to make room for her.

"The Lady can sit next to me!" the bearded warrior exclaimed through a mouthful of something. "I will show her how one properly feasts in this grand hall!"

She chuckled as she made her way to the seat he'd freed up, replying, "I will do my best to keep up."

"He will see that you do!" Thor laughed. "Oh, and before I forget - my brother wished me to tell you that he is unable to join us tonight."

"Oh... why?" she asked.

"He said something about... meditating, I think it was," Thor shrugged. "But no matter - we will take good care of you in his absence."

Aemilia smiled somewhat nervously, glancing at the doe-eyed girl standing next to her and Fandral's hand as it slid indecently down past the girl's back.

At the very least, the night should prove entertaining.

* * *

Loki was not meditating. He was invisible to the naked eye and also magically hidden from Heimdall's all-seeing gaze as he stood on the edge of a cliff that sat deep within the southeastern edges of the city's expansive woods.

He'd discovered this particular secret path between worlds on accident some time ago. He'd been sitting here, alone, after a day spent in the clearing that he used to test new spells in, and he'd been idly tossing rocks into the abyss below as he read a book in his lap. He'd taken a break to rest his eyes when he noticed that the rocks were not hitting the swirling sea below, but rather disappearing into a telltale shimmering ripple in the space between cliff and sea.

It was the third secret path he'd discovered. He knew now of all nine that linked the neighboring realms of Yggdrasil, and this particular path he never would have predicted he'd have need of. But here he stood, contemplating the gravity of what he was about to do, giving himself one last chance to change his mind.

But there could be no turning back now, he knew that to be true. What he was doing absolutely needed to be done. For Asgard, for all of the Nine Realms, for Thor. The best thing that Loki could do for his brother was see that he did not ascend to the throne yet and thus buy him more time to grow up.

The glee and satisfaction that Loki would take in doing so was merely an added bonus. He could just imagine the look on Thor's face when his big day came crashing down around him...

Now grinning, Loki took a deep breath and braced himself before jumping off of the cliff and into the ice and frost of Jotunheim.

* * *

"Another!"

"_Another!"_

Aemilia laughed as Fandral hit the ground along with his empty goblet, falling into a pile of giggling maidens as he decidedly lost he and Thor's drinking contest. The warrior groaned as Thor laughed and the girls tried to help him up, and Sif took the opportunity to quickly slide over to sit next to Aemilia.

"Never a dull moment with this bunch," Sif smiled, and Aemilia smiled back.

"I would expect nothing else," she replied, sipping at her own small glass of wine. Volstagg was the only one still actually eating, having now put away more plates of food than she could count. Everyone else was now simply drinking and letting their consumption lead them where it may.

"I wanted to... apologize for how I must have came across to you earlier," Sif said somewhat stiffly, staring at the table as she spoke. "Loki and I do not have the best history, but I've enjoyed your acquaintance in the past and I did not mean to offend you."

"It's all right," Aemilia assured her. "Loki told me a bit of what's transpired between the two of you, so I do understand."

Sif seemed a bit surprised at that, but she paused before she spoke again. "I was also quite shocked to see him show up with you at his side. Or any woman, for that matter." She paused again before asking somewhat reluctantly, "Is he kind to you?"

Aemilia opened her mouth, suddenly struck by how complicated the truthful answer to that question was. She went with the mostly true one. "Yes, yes he is."

"It's just strange... he's so solitary and... _Loki_," Sif remarked. "I never thought I'd see the day when -"

Sif was suddenly cut off when Thor appeared behind the two women and grabbed their hands, wrenching them both up to their feet and bellowing, "Enough chatter, ladies - who would like to dance with the future King first?"

Aemilia caught the sudden, subtle blush on Sif's face as she smiled and replied, "Oh, I believe that honor should go to our guest."

"So be it," Thor grinned before whisking Aemilia away into a small sea of other dancers. She laughed when he all but threw her into them, holding her hands in his much, much bigger ones as they joined in the exuberant dance. It was the sort of dancing that one saw in pubs, slightly sloppy jumping and singing and spinning that made it incredibly fun and carefree. The more people they bumped into, the more they'd laugh, and Thor's laugh boomed when they knocked down three other couples like dominos.

"Did I not tell you that I'd show you a good time?" Thor shouted over the others, surprisingly light on his feet for how much he'd already drank that evening.

"You did!" she laughed. "You've not disappointed!"

"I never do!"

Suddenly she bumped into something that felt much harder than another dancer, and she turned only to freeze at the sight of a royal guard staring wide-eyed under his helm. It was not just any guardsmen, but the man to whom she had been engaged only two days prior.

Dagr looked at Aemilia, then Thor, then back to Aemilia. She opened her mouth to speak just as he quickly averted his gaze and hurried away.

She turned back to Thor and looked down at their clasped hands, and also how close he'd been holding her to his chest, and she sighed at her luck, or the lack thereof.

"That was my ex-fiancé," she explained when she saw the confused look on the Prince's face.

"Ah," he said, recognition dawning on his blue eyes. "I... apologize?"

She shook her head. "Nothing to be sorry for."

She was then nearly knocked off her feet by another couple, and then she and Thor got swept back into the dance. She had no doubt that Dagr would run back to her mother and report what he'd seen, and she realized that she really didn't care. Loki, however, might.

* * *

Later, after Aemilia had left the party to return to her own room and Loki had returned to Asgard following his secret actions off-world, she had found herself feeling a bit nostalgic when Loki appeared in her room and vanished her into his own. It reminded her of the way that it had been before, except now she was so much more comfortable with what they were doing, and guilt wasn't slowly eating away at her inside.

He seemed to be in a fantastic mood, and he didn't give her a moment to breathe until it was the very early hours of the morning. She wondered how an evening spent as he'd said he had could have brought about such... _enthusiasm_. Not that she complained or questioned it.

It was only when she lay draped over him, panting lightly against his chest when he seemed to have at last run out of steam, that her mind slowly began to return to her. His had returned as well, evidenced by his question as he gently rolled her to lay in his arms.

"Did you manage to enjoy yourself tonight despite my absence?"

She looked up at his grin and rolled her eyes sleepily. "Yes. Barely noticed that you weren't there."

"Hm," he muttered skeptically. "I doubt that."

She shrugged. "Your brother kept me busy." Loki raised an eyebrow at that. She noted his mildly annoyed expression and added, "I should tell you that I had a slight run-in with Dagr. He saw me dancing with your brother and I suspect he may have gotten the wrong idea."

If Aemilia had never seen a look of being _calmly_ murderous on Loki's face before, she certainly did in that moment. Fingertips that had been idly tracing her side stilled as he glared at her.

She glared right back. "What?"

"I will not have others thinking Thor of all people has a claim of any sort on you."

"Well, what would you have me do?" she asked, too tired to quarrel with him over this.

He seemed to think for a moment, expression softening somewhat as he stared off for a moment. Then he turned his eyes back to hers and said, "You are singing at the open of the coronation celebrations, yes?"

"Yes," she replied.

"I will escort you. You'll stay by my side throughout the party. That should put to rest any speculation you might have given rise to tonight."

Her eyes widened. "That _I_ might have given rise to? I did nothing but dance with your brother - I did nothing wrong!"

He did nothing but continue to eye her with what looked like irritation, so she shoved his hand away and moved to roll away from him. But he caught her wrist and had her pinned underneath him before she could so much as blink. She stared up at him defiantly.

"Do you not wish for Asgard to know of us? To know whom you belong to?" he asked, voice low and somewhat threatening. It sent a shiver down her spine that she probably shouldn't have enjoyed as she did.

"I do not wish to keep us a secret," she assured him. "But I do not appreciate you implying that I am to blame for someone else's misconceptions."

"I do not appreciate turning my back for a few hours and hearing of how you spent that time in my brother's arms."

She rolled her eyes. "Your jealousy is excessive and preposterous."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You are mine now, Aemilia, truly mine. And I won't have you acting as if you are not."

"And I will dance with whom I please."

She gasped then as one of his knees slid between her thighs and pressed against her over-sensitive center. Both of his hands still held her wrists to the bed on either side of her head.

"Then I will punish you as I please."

Her lips parted at those words, and she tried to muster up some outrage, but instead, she felt equal parts annoyed and... _excited_. She was hopeless.

"But you would like that, wouldn't you?" he grinned wickedly, grinding down against her and making her squirm. She felt hardness against her thigh and cursed this man's ridiculous stamina.

"Perhaps," she answered, gasping again when he swiftly replaced his knee with his length, pressing against her but not breaching her yet.

"What a deviant little creature you are," he grinned, kissing her lips as he continued to just brush against her.

"You made me this way," she said, straining against him despite her exhaustion.

"Oh no, you were always this way," he purred, giving her what she wanted then and thrusting inside of her. She moaned and let her head loll in satisfaction. "I merely awakened you."

He never let go of her wrists, and she didn't want him to. There was little sleep to be had that night, and she had to admit, his envy and issues with possessiveness were not positive qualities, but they did undeniably have their benefits.

**A/N: Things be happening :-D not much to say here tonight, at least about this particular chapter, but first and foremost, my usual thanks to all you guys for your wonderful reviews & feedback & general amazingness, and I also have to thank midnightwings96, who I am super excited to say wrote an AMAZING Loki/reader fic called In Service of The King, and holy CRAP, people - go read it, because it's scaldingly hot and amazing. Go read it and leave a review for the amazing mind behind all of the best ideas in my stories :D it's on my favorites list so hop on over and have a look, you shall not be disappointed :D Oh, and a bonus chapter is up next, its not written yet but it'll be up before the next "proper" chapter, and it's gonna be fun :D lots of love to all you guys :D**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N 1: ridiculously long chapter ahead. But it's totally worth the eye strain, I promise ;)**

Loki awoke later than he normally did most mornings, frowning in confusion as he rolled from his front to his back and wondered where his sheets were. A glance to his right answered his question, and he smiled lightly at the little ball Aemilia was curled into underneath the sheets that she was hogging. Her face was only visible from her nose up, and she looked almost childlike.

She'd been sleeping in his bed every night since her "banishment" began, and it had been a pleasant strangeness to share his bed with another. He hadn't slept in the same bed as someone else since early in his youth, when he and Thor were inseparable, and the idea of doing so with a woman had been just strange at first. But where he'd expected clinginess and general discomfort, she turned out to be the ideal bedmate - quiet, not restless, and not one to cling.

And keeping her close throughout the night had its obvious benefits. She may have been a steady sleeper, but he was not, and during the many times a night that he'd wake for no clear reason, he'd occasionally take advantage of her willingness to let him have her whenever he wanted. The mornings would often provide the same advantages, and he found that there were no downsides to sleeping with her.

Today's sheet-hogging was inconsequential. He shifted closer to her and gently pried the sheet down from her face, causing her to stir slightly as he pulled it down to shoulder. He nuzzled her neck, kissing her skin that was a bit cooler than usual, feeling it heat quickly under his touch as she slowly awakened.

Her fingers found his hair as he continued to shower her neck with soft kisses, sliding through his messy strands as she hummed contentedly. Then he lifted his head and pressed his lips to hers, removing her cocoon of sheets fully and pulling her against him, and she happily complied, returning his kiss with sleepy enthusiasm.

He liked these mornings together, how in contrast they were to their nights. These early moments were lazier, more languid, utterly relaxed, and if left to themselves, they could waste an hour like this, not bothering to leave the bed and dress until they absolutely had to.

But this morning was doomed from the outset. Loki remembered from the moment his eyes opened what day it was, but Aemilia surely hadn't - if she had, she would have been shrieking about sleeping too late and running as fast as she could from his room in a sheer panic.

He waited for the realization to hit her, letting his kisses deepen and running his fingertips down the length of her body as she returned his touches, carefree.

"Is it late?" she eventually asked breathily against his lips.

"Quite," he chuckled in response, kissing her chin and then her jaw as she mewled in response.

She caught his lips with hers again, and he was halfway considering reminding her what the day held for them, but before he could, her lips suddenly froze against his. He opened his eyes, watching hers open wider, and he smiled as she jerked away from him and all but bolted from the bed.

"The party! Oh, no... I'm so far behind schedule... why didn't you wake me?! Oh, no, no, no..."

Loki sat up, watching in amusement as she tried to pull on her dress from the night before, so disheveled and panicked that she tried to put it on backwards. She mumbled the whole time, darting from one end of the room to the other, grabbing her shoes and then hurriedly running her fingers through her tangled hair with one hand while the other shoved the shoes on to her feet.

"Aemilia."

She looked up and saw him motion for her to come closer. "Loki, no, I have to-"

"Aemilia," he repeated, slightly more authoritative this time. "Come here."

She huffed and stomped over to him, and he narrowed his eyes playfully at her attitude before he waved a hand and put her back together perfectly. Then he grasped her hand, and she sighed in relief.

"I thought..."

"I know what you thought," he grinned.

"You need to teach me how to do that myself."

He shrugged. "Perhaps. Now go prepare yourself. We've a big day ahead of us."

She smiled, and it was an infectious thing. A moment later, he'd vanished her to her own room, and he was alone. He took a deep breath and ventured out of his bed to dress, contemplating the oddness of the day ahead.

Frigga had been most thrilled with his plans to escort Aemilia to the first round of celebrations being held in Thor's honor, placing them in the public eye as an official couple. This meant that he was now "courting" her - as odd a concept as that was - and to his relief, even Odin approved. He'd been a bit wary at first, due to the slight scandalous nature of the relationship following her previous engagement and subsequent banishment, but her noble status was intact, and Frigga wholeheartedly supported her. He gave his approval then, but Loki suspected that Odin would not have been so generous had Loki been heir to the the throne.

It didn't matter. He preferred it this way. He'd gotten his way, and unbeknownst to all but him, these celebrations would be in vain if his more secretive plans succeeded. The stage was already set, and now he needed only to wait play his part in the meantime.

His thoughts had placed him in a good mood, and after he dressed and left his room, he strolled down the hallway towards his mother's rooms, as per usual. He passed the two guards stationed at the end of the hall and then suddenly stopped, narrowing his eyes as he took a step back and looked at one of the guardsmen.

The man stared ahead, as was protocol, and Loki had to wonder if someone had stationed this man so close to his chambers as some kind of joke. Of all the places in the palace that Aemilia's ex-fiancé could have been assigned to, he gets assigned here.

"How long are you assigned to this post, Guardsman?" Loki asked.

"Two weeks, Your Highness," Dagr replied, still not looking the Prince in the eye. Now it was choice, not protocol.

"And your shift is?"

"Night to morning, Your Highness."

"Ah," Loki replied. He looked away, the wheels of mischief turning in his head as he began walking again. An idea was already forming in his head to further torture the poor man, and Loki had a feeling it would prove to be one of his more deliciously enjoyable ones.

* * *

She could not believe that today, of all days, she had overslept. She had already been nervous to begin with, but now, she was positively frantic.

Thanks to Loki's magic shortcuts, she'd made it to her final rehearsals almost on time, not late enough for anyone to notice otherwise. It had taken the better part of two hours, and once it was over, it was back to her room to quickly eat as Gunnvarr prepped and polished her, which was a whole other ordeal in itself.

Once she was bathed and scrubbed and smothered in fragrant oils to an inch of her life, she returned to her bedchamber with Gunnvarr and waited as the handmaid went to fetch her dress from the closet. When she came back, armed with a black dress bag, she laid it on the bed and quickly untied the bindings. Aemilia peered down at what lay inside and felt her jaw drop.

"Oh, my... is this what the Queen had made for you?"

She watched as Gunnvarr delicately picked up the dress and raked her eyes over it, somewhat dumbfounded. Aemilia had been fitted by one of the Queen's own dressmakers some weeks ago, and she had chosen a light aqua design for the gown that she would sing in today. But the dress before her now was nothing like the one she'd chosen, gold with subtle hints of green throughout, and certainly less tame.

"... No," Aemilia sighed, reaching out and touching the fabric. It felt as luxurious as it looked. "I suppose the colors make it clear who I have to thank for this."

"That Prince of yours is incorrigible. No shame at all, and he's been that way since he was a boy."

"You must have been in the Queen's service for some time," Aemilia observed as Gunnvarr swiftly undid the tiny buttons at the back of the dress.

"Since I was your age," she replied. "The Queen appreciates my firm hand. Any other royal would have dismissed me eons ago for it, but I have her trust. I suspect that's why she assigned me to you - to help keep an eye on her son and see that he treats you well. Now come on, step into this and let's see how it looks on you, child."

A few moments later, Aemilia stood in front of her full-length mirror, unable to deny that the dress looked rather amazing on her. It fit her perfectly, the gold, silk-like fabric wrapping around her curves and giving a gorgeous silhouette. The only part that gave her pause was the sheer section on her right side that ran all the way from her hipbone to the bottom of the skirt, shielded only by thin sheer fabric embellished with intricate swirls of shimmering gold with deep green accents. Along the neckline was a similar design, and at the back of the one-shouldered strap was a flowing cape-like swath that trailed the floor and made her look truly like a goddess.

It was daring, to be sure, but undeniably stunning.

"Well, that's not quite the dress I envisioned you in."

Aemilia turned and looked at her door, a faint heat reaching her cheeks as the Queen strode in.

"I - this was what was delivered, if it's in poor taste -"

Frigga smiled and shook her head. "No, no. You look lovely. And I'm sure Loki would hate to see his hard work go to waste."

Aemilia nodded, letting out a breath and deciding that the Queen was unquestionably her favorite person ever. "You don't think it indecent?"

Frigga came and stood behind her, appraising her reflection and musing, "Indecent, no. Attention-demanding and beautiful, yes. I admit that I wore similar gowns in my day."

Aemilia looked up at the smile on the Queen's reflection and she replied, "If I may say so, it is still very much your day, my Queen."

Frigga patted her shoulder. "Bless you for saying so, dear. Are you prepared for this day and what will undoubtedly follow?"

Aemilia took a breath and turned to face the Queen. "I believe so."

"You are about to face a level of scrutiny that you cannot yet fathom," Frigga warned. "Loki pretends that because he is not heir that there will be little interest, but he is wrong. Especially considering how the two of you came to be."

Aemilia nodded. "I know. I expect nothing less."

"Do you know what was said of me, when I came to live here after the war between Asgard and my homeland of Vanaheim?" Frigga asked. Aemilia shook her head. "I was eyed with distrust and suspicion, which only grew when I gained the King's attention. I was not of Asgardian blood, I had skill in magic that was unprecedented and immediately feared, and the people feared that I would attempt to control their noble King through my 'witchcraft'."

Aemilia had never heard a word of this before. To her knowledge, the Queen had always been universally loved and treasured by all of Asgard.

"Also," she sighed, "Vanir society is a bit more... relaxed than that of Asgard in some areas, so not only was I an untrustworthy witch, I was also not the pure bride the people wanted for their young King."

And the surprises just kept coming. "Oh."

Frigga smiled. "So as you can see, I caused quite the scandal in those days."

"How did you turn it around?"

"I was patient," the Queen replied. "I got to know the people, whether they liked it or not. I did not hide or pretend to be anything other than what I was. The people came to see, in time, that I was an asset to their country and to their King. And I've never given them a reason to believe otherwise." Frigga then took Aemilia's hand and added, "Be yourself. Be strong. Let the people gossip and say what they will. They will come to know you in time, just as they came to know me."

Aemilia nodded, struck by the way Frigga spoke in such long-term terminology. She and Loki were only going public with a supposed courtship, not announcing a wedding date. As she thanked the Queen for her kind and wise words, she found herself with the distinct impression once again that Frigga knew certain things that nobody else did. She certainly spoke with the subtle confidence of one with foresight.

"Now," Frigga sighed, motioning to Gunnvarr, "I believe it's time that I give you your gift."

"Oh, you didn't have to-"

"Of course I did," Frigga smiled, taking a long white box from the servant. "Don't be silly. Besides, this will go even better with that dress than the other one."

She handed the box to Aemilia, and she opened it to find a golden head chain inside. "Oh... wow."

Frigga smiled and picked up the chain, carefully lifting it from the box and placing it atop Aemilia's head to try it on her. She then turned to look at it in the mirror, admiring the delicate jewelry. Three chains on either side of her head draped and gathered at a large diamond that lay gently on her forehead, further anchored by one lone chain that ran into the middle of her hairline; the diamond was flawless, framed by smaller ones and holding three tiny dangling rows of yet more little diamonds, nearly long enough to touch between Aemilia's eyebrows.

"It is stunningly beautiful," she raved. "Thank you."

"It is dwarf made, spun with the finest gold in the realm. I saw it and thought would suit you well," Frigga smiled. "I've obviously never gotten to bestow such gifts upon my sons, so this is quite a new and enjoyable experience for me."

It was a bit overwhelming, but in a pleasant way. Frigga was clearly a spoiler at heart, far more so than Aemilia's own parents had ever been. She smiled at the Queen and thanked her again, and her gratitude encompassed far more than the jewelry.

"I will leave you to the rest of your preparations," Frigga smiled. "Do remember what I told you when the tongues start wagging."

Aemilia smiled back. "I will. Thank you, my Queen."

* * *

It took an hour of pain and discomfort before her hair was up and styled to Gunnvarr's satisfaction, but it was worth it. Aemilia's dark locks were curled and twisted intricately at the top of the back of her head, little pieces strategically pulled out to frame her face, and Frigga's gift looked exquisite atop her head. When it was finally done and all that were left were the finishing touches, there was a knock at her door.

Somehow she knew who it was before they entered. When he did, Gunnvarr glanced at the door and started huffing, and Aemilia almost laughed at the servant's reaction until she turned away from the mirror to look for herself.

Her eyes met Loki's and she quickly dismissed Gunnvarr. He was in his full Princely regalia, helm and all, and she couldn't help but bite her lip. On anyone else, the horns would have looked ridiculous; on him, they were exceptionally attractive.

He walked into the room slowly as Gunnvarr exited it, trailing his eyes up and down Aemilia's figure, clad in the dress he'd had designed for her. He took in each inch slowly, like he was committing it all to memory, and he especially lingered on the sheer part of her dress.

He didn't speak until they were only inches apart, and after he'd all but undressed her with his eyes. At last his gaze met hers. "You should let me dress you more often."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was plastered to her lips. "You're usually too busy _un_dressing me."

He smirked and then leaned forward, catching her lips in a hungry kiss. An arm snaked around her waist and yanked her to his chest, but he was careful to not disturb her hair or dress in his actions.

She would have loved to let him kiss her into oblivion, but they were on a timetable and she forced herself to pull away. She smiled up at him and asked, "Did you come here to make me late again?"

He grinned and shook his head, then removed one of his hands from her waist and replied, "Tempting thought, but not this time."

His fingers flicked against the air and a small box appeared in his hand. Her eyes widened and she half-groaned, "Oh, Nine Realms, another gift."

He chuckled, handing it out to her. "Open it."

She took the box with both hands, shaking her head slightly as she removed the lid. She peered into the little box and reached in, pulling out what appeared to be an arm band. It was gold and thin, wound around several times, almost snake-like, and at the top, the band split into two rising horn-like curves.

Because merely wearing his colors and being on his arm wasn't enough to mark her as his. She needed to bear the symbol of his helm, as well.

And she _loved_ it.

"Do you like it?" he asked, taking it from her and sliding his finger along the inside of it, releasing a catch that opened the band.

She watched as he slid it on to her right arm, smiling as she replied, "Immensely. I might have to wear it regularly."

"Good," he grinned, securing it along her upper arm. He admired his handiwork for a moment, then turned his eyes back to hers and pulled her in for another kiss.

She reached up to place her palms on the cool metal that lined his face, finding him in his full armor and the symbolism in his gift to be far more of a turn on than she would have expected. She began to think, as he deepened the kiss, that maybe they did have a few minutes to spare. But before she could voice that thought, they were interrupted by Gunnvarr walking back into the room.

"No time for that! Forgive my intrusion, but we simply must finish your preparations, my lady!"

Loki groaned slightly as he pulled away, and Aemilia smiled up at his slightly frustrated expression. He addressed Gunnvarr without so much as a glance her way, "I've come to escort the Lady to the Hall. These preparations will have to do."

Aemilia glanced in the mirror as he took her hand, more than satisfied with how she looked, but Gunnvarr immediately started fussing and rushing towards them as Loki tugged on her arm.

"Gunnvarr, really, it's fine, I'm ready," Aemilia laughed as she let Loki drag her towards the door. The servant huffed some more but had no choice but to watch them go.

"Insufferable woman," Loki muttered as he pulled Aemilia into the hallway. "She's as annoying as she was when I was a child. Possibly more so."

"I like her," Aemilia replied, glancing down at their clasped hands as they walked.

"You would," he snorted, glancing down at her and finding that her eyes had travelled up to his helm. Again. He smirked. "Should I wear this for you more often?"

"I would not object if you did," she smiled in reply.

"I'll keep it in mind. Are you nervous?"

"About what? Letting the entire realm know about us, or singing in front of the entire realm?"

"Both," Loki grinned.

"I am a bit nervous," she replied truthfully. "But it's thrilling in a... pleasant way. I wouldn't change a thing about what's to come today."

They had neared the end of the hallway when he stopped unexpectedly and faced her, their hands still clasped. "Neither would I. And I mean that. Sincerely. I was a fool to not do this sooner."

She blinked up at his unexpected honesty, smiling gently before he placed a kiss to her lips.

"Now," he grinned as he pulled away, "let's go."

* * *

The Great Hall was as packed and filled as the streets outside of the palace were, all throughout the city of Asgard. It was a day for nobles and commoners alike, the grand start to a month that would end in a new King taking the throne, and naturally, that meant a bit of royal ceremony followed by a night of furiously celebratory drinking and merriment to be had throughout all of the land, by all of the current and future King's subjects.

The celebrations would begin with a quick address from Odin on the front steps of the palace, bridging the gap between the commoners on the street and the nobles that lined the hall. Then, an ancient anthem of Asgard would be sung, and the sound of the King's scepter striking the ground would signal the official start of the festivities.

Loki led Aemilia to the Great Hall's entrance within the palace and waited. He would be the first to walk through the Hall to the front steps outside, followed by Thor, and then by the King and Queen.

He could feel Aemilia's anxiety. It was all but rolling off of her in waves, punctuated by the magical energy within her that she was still in the process of fully controlling. He could feel the truth of her words, however, that it wasn't an unpleasant thrill that she felt. On the contrary, she seemed eager for what lay ahead.

He eyed the band on her arm, quietly pleased with himself and his idea to brand her with his emblem. He was even more pleased with her overall appearance, however - she looked like a goddess, as if she were born to be royalty herself, and though this day may be in his brother's honor, Loki not help but feel an immense triumph at he being the one to have such an exquisite woman on his arm, rather than his brother.

She had looked up at him and appeared to be on the verge of speaking when loud footsteps sounded behind them. Loki could distinguish his brother's footsteps from that of anyone else's with ease.

"At last," Loki said, turning to smirk at Thor as he came bounding towards them. "Nearly late to your own party."

"Ah, but my party has already begun," Thor winked, the distinct scent of a familiar feminine perfume hitting Loki's nose as Thor came to stop.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm glad to see you managed to tear yourself away."

He then watched his brother and Aemilia exchange greetings, and then it was time to go.

He unclasped their hands and then offered his arm to her with a smile. "Ready, darling?"

She smiled back and linked her arm with his. "Ready."

* * *

She listened to a guard announce their names in the Hall, everything suddenly feeling extremely real and yet also surreal at the same time. Her arm was wrapped tightly in his, her fingers curled on his upper arm, and when they stepped through the Hall's doors and into the view of the nobles - nearly all of whom she'd met at some point in her young life - she smiled and held her head high as she walked by the Prince's side.

At first, the people didn't so much as bat an eye. So the Prince was escort the woman who would sing the anthem of Asgard - not an uncommon concept.

But then, she caught a few of the older ladies of the court whispering amongst themselves. One subtly pointed to her arm. Aemilia could almost see the clicking taking place in their minds.

Before this day, it had been rumored that she was living at the palace as a guest of Thor's. He had been seen greeting her the day she arrived, and dancing rambunctiously with her since then. She was never seen leaving her own room in the mornings, servants whispered; and she had been banished recently from her own home after refusing a marriage.

Now they would all know that she was indeed a companion of a Prince, just not the one they all originally assumed.

The older ladies stared with mostly stone faces, masking glowers. The men didn't seem overly interested, though they did feast their eyes upon her, predictably. The younger girls, some of whom Aemilia had played with as a child, wore shocked smiles. Other women, whom she'd never met before, glared at both her and Loki; she needed only one guess as to why.

Soon they neared the end of the Hall, and they walked to the top of the outside steps, where much less judgmental eyes awaited them. Aemilia watched as Loki, in statesman form, waved and smiled at the commoners lining and filling the courtyard and surrounding streets. A small nudge from him urged her to do the same, and she obliged, though she felt a bit out of sorts doing it.

Then Thor arrived behind them, and Loki led her to the left, where they stood and waited. Thor took much longer entertaining the crowd, proudly displaying Mjolnir as if the realm hadn't ever seen it before, and Aemilia could nearly feel Loki's eyes rolling.

But when she looked up at Loki, she didn't see ridicule. She didn't even see a blank, bored expression. Instead, she saw genuine, if slightly exasperated, affection as he watched his brother play to the crowd.

She looked away when Thor finally moved to the right, and then the King and Queen arrived. That was when the crowd truly cheered and made their adoration known, and Aemilia took a moment to fully take in the fact that she was standing here, on the steps of the palace, with the royal family, at the start of one of the most important months the realm had seen in possibly millennia.

All because one day, in a streak of rebellion, she'd allowed a Prince to kiss her in the moonlight, in this very palace.

How unexpectedly enormous one's smallest action could prove.

The King spoke briefly to the people, far more briefly than she had anticipated. Then he introduced her, and moved to join Thor's side. Frigga took Loki's side, and Aemilia stared at the spot where Odin had stood, her own feet gracefully taking her there.

Behind her, Loki made a motion with his hand, magically amplifying her voice for all of the crowd to hear. The atmosphere became silent as she took her place before the people, and where a lesser woman would have been terrified, she looked out at the city before her feet and smiled.

This was already one of the best moments of her life, and she hadn't even begun to sing yet.

* * *

Loki had not seen many sights that he would qualify as breathtaking. His breath was, generally speaking, quite steady and firm in his lungs, and taking it away was no easy task. However, when this beautiful creature, dressed elegantly in his colors, wearing the symbol of his helm on her arm and his mother's gift upon her head, walked to where his father had stood only a moment before and opened her mouth, letting that glorious voice of hers wash over the ears of the kingdom as she sang one of its oldest songs, he finally understood what it meant to truly have your breath taken away.

The song was sung in battle and in state alike, a vocally demanding tribute to the everlasting strength and beauty of Asgard, as well as that of its oldest ancestors. She carried the notes with ease, her arms rising from her sides with the highest notes, the large swath of emerald-lined gold fabric behind her shoulder billowing in the wind and giving her an even more goddess-like appearance.

If he could have his way, he would always see her like this. This was Aemilia in her element, at the height of confidence, the single most beautiful thing he'd seen in his thousand years.

And he didn't think such things lightly.

He felt a gaze on him, and he expected it to be from his mother, smiling in that knowing, insightful way of hers. Instead, he glanced over and caught Thor grinning at him as subtly as he could manage.

Thor was happy for him, as happy as any brother would be for another who'd found an exceptional woman. It was written on his face. And it gave rise to a small pang of guilt that Loki instantly brushed aside.

He smiled back at his brother, then turned his eyes back to Aemilia as she reached the final notes.

He certainly had found an exceptional woman, _the_ most exceptional woman, in his opinion. What had begun as a game, a way to pass the time and ruin an innocent woman for the fun of it, had become something else entirely, and he couldn't even pinpoint when it had begun to change for him.

It was the height of irony; he had originally set out to ruin her for all others, force her to crave him for all of her many years when she could no longer have him, and yet now he could not imagine feeling the touch of any woman other than her. She had ruined him as effectively as he'd ruined her.

Her final note soared over the crowd, over the city, and rose up to the cloudless sky above. It went on and on, and he reveled in it, a grin reaching his lips when the city began their applause before she had even fully ended it.

His own applause followed, as she gave a graceful, humble bow to her audience. Then he glanced at his father to gauge his reaction. Odin approved, smiling with his usual grave undertone as he also applauded.

When Aemilia finally turned, when the applause had finally lessened after what had felt like a blessedly very long time, she smiled at the family behind her and took the hand that Loki offered to her. She returned to his side, her hand shaking in his with all of the leftover adrenaline running through her veins, as Odin stood in the center once more and began the festivities with a strike of Gungnir,

The crowd's cheering began anew, this time in exultation of the fabulous city-wide celebrations that had officially just begun. Loki and the rest of the family bade the public a farewell, then headed back inside the palace, to the Great Hall, where their own party awaited.

On their way back inside, Loki grinned down at Aemilia, who was positively radiating from her performance, and bent down to nuzzle her ear as they walked.

"You should be proud, my little Goddess of Song."

* * *

A shiver ran down her spine at his words. She was already humming and buzzing with energy, on a pure, unadulterated high following her performance on the palace steps, and Loki's whisper in her ear only amplified the dizzying sensations.

"I wasn't aware that you had the authority to bestow titles like that," she smiled up at him, shifting her hand in his so that their fingers laced and interlocked together.

"If I did, it would be yours," he replied sincerely. Then his eyes flickered forward and lost some of their mirth, and she followed his gaze and was surprised to see a gaggle of nobles all but tripping over themselves to get to her.

Right. This was what Frigga had been warning her about.

She smiled and received the attention as graciously as she could, having her hand and cheeks kissed within an inch of her life, and Loki stood by her for as long as he could, before he was eventually and inevitably pulled away in another direction.

Having been raised among these people, she wasn't surprised by the candor in their questions and statements, but it was still jarring at times.

One older woman, who she knew to be moderately well acquainted with her mother, fussed and gave her a particularly hard time after lavishing the appropriate praise for her performance.

"I heard the news some time ago, but I could hardly believe it!" she said, sounding aghast. "You, banished! I never would have believed it if I hadn't heard it from your mother's own lips! But even that isn't as shocking as _this_!"

The woman then touched Aemilia's arm band, and Aemilia shrugged before replying, "Yes, well... so far, things seem to have worked out for the best."

"Yes, yes, I would say so... but the younger Prince... he's always struck me as just a bit... _different_."

"Then we make a fine match, indeed," Aemilia replied tersely. "Now, if you'll excuse me -"

"Oh, no, my dear, do not take offense!" she hastened to add, stopping Aemilia from escaping. "I only mean to say that I would expect the daughter of Ayre to set her sights on the throne, if you get my meaning."

Aemilia opened her mouth and was on the verge of an agitated retort when a hand suddenly snatched her wrist and a deeper voice spoke next to her, "The lady understands your meaning, I am sure of it. In fact, I'd venture to say she's had her fill of understanding for the night."

Aemilia blinked at her unexpected savior, surprised to see that it was Fandral of all people now whisking her away from the nosey crowd. "Ah... thank you?"

He relinquished his hold on her wrist once they were safely away, and he smiled brightly in response. "You're very welcome, my lady! My congratulations on the finest rendition of our anthem that I've heard in centuries! Now, tell me why on Asgard would Loki leave you to deal with _that_ alone?"

"He was pulled away for something, I told him it was fine -"

Fandral merely tsked with a wave of his hand, then raised a brow to her as he said, "But see, he left you alone to be found and picked up by someone infinitely preferable - namely, me. A common mistake by foolish men, I'm sad to say."

He winked, and she laughed. "Forgive me for not recognizing your innate preferability."

"You are forgiven," he said, eyes leaving hers and trailing down over her body as he sighed. "But you are not forgiven for showing up here in _that_. It is a device of personal torture of which you cannot imagine."

She smiled, finding the wistfully lustful look in his eyes to be hilarious. "Loki designed it, so you can blame him."

"Of course he did," Fandral muttered, tearing his eyes away. "He's rather fond of torture, you know. Of me, in particular. Haven't the slightest clue why."

"Perhaps he dislikes you least of everyone and doesn't know how else to express it," Aemilia shrugged.

"... Perhaps. In any case, I cannot bear to behold your beauty any longer, so I shall leave you to your Prince, who is right there, looking as in need of rescue as you were," Fandral said, motioning ahead, and sure enough there stood Loki, standing beside his father and brother as they spoke to a particularly uptight looking family. Clearly, the nobles were nowhere near drunk enough for the party to be an actual party yet.

"Thank you for your intervention," Aemilia smiled, and Fandral gave a lightheartedly dramatic bow in response.

"Anything for you, my lady," he drawled, smiling as he turned and left. She smiled after him and then set off towards Loki, catching his eye halfway there and feeling her stomach flip a little at the way his eyes lit up when he saw her.

She watched him mutter something to the King and get a nod in response, and then he was walking towards her. The first thing out of his mouth when he reached her was an apology.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you alone with those people," he said, taking her by the wrist and leading her away. "Especially not before they're drunk enough to be mildly pleasant."

"It's all right," she assured him. "I'm more than capable of holding my own in these circles."

"I don't doubt that. But," he stopped and faced her, "this is is supposed to be a party. And after the way that you blew away the entire realm with that voice of yours, I think you deserve to actually enjoy yourself."

A servant bearing goblets of sparkling wine walked by, and Loki snatched two of them and held one out to Aemilia. She reached out to take it, but when her fingers curled around it and tried to pull it from his grip, he held it and said, "Do not get drunk. I need you with your wits intact for later."

She raised an eyebrow. "What's later?"

"Something far more enjoyable than mingling with our charming nobles, I assure you," Loki grinned before finally letting her have the glass.

"I wonder what you could possibly mean by that," she grinned back before taking a sip of the wine.

"You'll find out soon enough."

She took another sip, then let her eyes run unabashedly up and down the length of him, from the tips of his horns to the leather of his boots, and then back up a bit, up the long lengths of his legs, which was when she choked on her wine.

"Are you all right?"

She coughed into her arm, nodding until the fit passed, then glancing back at him and saying, "I didn't - until now, I hadn't... realized quite how _fitted_ certain parts of your full armor is."

"Ah," he smiled, suddenly delighted. "Find it distracting?"

She rolled her eyes, coughing a few last times. "I... no, not at all."

"Of course not," he grinned, taking her hand again. "Now come along. Before I decide to forgo this party entirely."

* * *

Despite the rough start, the party did pick up, and with a vengeance, due mostly to Thor's antics. Once he got into the thick of it, inhaling the ale and dancing with every girl he could get his hands on, the others followed suit, and a party living up to Asgard's reputations was at hand.

The last time Aemilia had been to a party here, she had been the date of another and had shared a tense but brief dance with Loki while doing her best to not give away the true nature of their relationship to onlookers. Now that there were no such barriers in place, and she was free to act how she pleased with him, it was nothing short of exhilarating.

He kept her by his side and sent his helm vanishing off somewhere before he danced with her the way Thor had a week or two ago, exuberantly amid the sea of other couples, but she enjoyed it a thousand times more this time around. He lifted her up and tossed her around, spun her, dipped her and caught her, jumped with her when the crowd around them did, and she couldn't remember ever seeing him smile or laugh as much as he was now. Once, he'd almost dropped her when Thor knocked into him from behind, and he half-fell to his knees clutching her to his chest, and he laughed so hard into her hair that it had inspired her own silly giggles, and they didn't get back up to their feet until they got yelled at by irritated other couples who didn't feel like stepping over them.

He was usually so serious, even when he was playful and lighthearted with her, but dancing with him brought out a different side of him that she'd never seen before and hoped to see more of in the future. Carefree and fun were good looks on him, and made him look every bit the young Prince that he was, underneath the intellect and skills that made him seem much older than he was at times.

When the dancing had slowed down slightly, he pulled her to his chest and nuzzled her neck, chuckling against her skin as he danced her around more causally. "I like this."

"So do I," she replied, arms around his neck. He kissed her neck lightly and she giggled at the way it tickled, her eyes darting around at some spectators as she whispered, "People are watching."

He dragged his lips up to her ear and murmured back, "Let them."

She shivered as he left tiny kisses under her ear, along her cheek, all while they danced slowly and gained more attention from onlookers.

His breath ghosted along her lips. "Let them see what's mine. I want their envy."

She looked up into his eyes, feeling his lips brush against hers, and throwing caution to the wind, she kissed her Prince in front of all of them. A part of her hoped her mother was somewhere among them, to see this and see that she could not be happier with her life as a banished outcast.

The kiss was short, certainly brief by their usual standards, and they'd stopped dancing entirely by the end of it. He led her away from the floor after a moment, and then they got dragged to a table by Thor a moment later.

The table was packed, with the Warriors Three, Sif and others, so Aemilia opted to sit on Loki's lap rather than try to smush between him and his hulking brother. His hand rested on her hip, a proud sort of possession palpable in his touch, and she rested an arm around his shoulders in response. She might have wanted some envy of her own.

Gone tonight was the tension usually evident in group conversations like the one currently at hand. She heard no jests at Loki's expense, saw no sideways glares from anyone, not even Sif, though she suspected that might have something to do with the fact that Thor had an arm slung over her shoulders. Aemilia hoped he meant the gesture as sincerely as Sif seemed to be taking it, but she had a bad feeling that he didn't.

Loki procured another glass of wine and shared it between them, and when the conversation drifted away from them for a moment, her mind flickered back to what Loki had said earlier, over their first glass.

Without anyone noticing, she leaned her lips down to his ear and brushed them teasingly against him before asking in a whisper, "Care to tell me yet what you have planned tonight?"

His grip on her hip tightened just fractionally as he leaned back, looking up at her in amusement. "Do you ever think of anything else?"

"Do you?" she retorted.

"When I must," he grinned.

"Answer my question," she said, shifting a little bit in his lap, getting just a little bit closer to him. When he only raised an eyebrow in response, she gave a quiet little plea. "Please?"

He smiled faintly at her plea. Then he motioned for her to come closer with one finger, and she did, placing her ear at his lips.

He spoke his next words in a low, velvety, almost menacing whisper that would have made her heart pound even without the shock of his actual words. "I'm going to break you."

She froze for a few seconds, her eyes widening at the words, which she had not been expecting at all. Then she pulled away, almost jerking back to her previous position, and stared at him only to find him looking up at her in complete innocence as he sipped their wine.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He didn't blink. "Precisely what it does mean."

She furrowed her brows. "But..."

He suddenly laughed, running his finger along her cheek and saying low enough so that only she would hear, "Don't look so concerned, darling. You're going to enjoy every last moment of it."

She stared at him a moment longer and then snatched the wine out of his hand. He snatched it back before she could have another sip.

"A-ah. I told you, I need you fully in control of yourself tonight. Because if you do not have control, " he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her ear, dropping his voice back down to that terrible, wonderful whisper, "then how am I supposed to strip it away from you?"

He punctuated his words with a hard little nip to her earlobe that nobody else saw. Her heart was already pounding and her blood was flowing with arousal, instantly spiked by his voice and his worrisome (but enticing) words.

She'd long been under the impression that he had "broken" her and taken away her self-control a long time ago. But, apparently he didn't agree, and he planned to remedy this tonight.

She swallowed dryly and looked around the table, realizing that now, for better or worse, for the rest of the evening, she wasn't going to think about a single thing other than what Loki had in store for her later.

* * *

"I really don't see what all the fuss is about."

Aemilia looked up from the basin she washed her hands in, turning her head to identify the source of the voice. She was in the huge, ornate ladies' washroom connected through a small corridor to the Great Hall, and Loki was waiting for her back at the party. It took her a moment to locate the woman leaning against a column near a row of other basins, but once she did, she narrowed her eyes slightly.

The woman had a headful of pale blonde hair, so blonde that it was almost white, and she wore a scarlet dress that was nothing short of scandalous. Aemilia recognized her instantly as Ilyana, renowned whore of noble blood who Loki's sole indiscretion had been committed with.

"You're pretty, I suppose," she mused, crossing her arms, turning a more critical eye to Aemilia. "But I've seen prettier. Talented to be sure, but I've always taken Loki for one to value less... respectable talents."

Maybe it was the wine she'd consumed, or maybe it was the fact that she was incredibly sick of justifying herself to nosey people who felt it was their duty to comment on her personal choices, but Aemilia decided to let loose all of the sharp responses she'd been holding back the whole night.

"Well," she smiled, "he's stated on numerous occasion that my less respectable talents are among the best he's seen. Even better than the whores he's had in the past."

"The not so distant past," Ilyana smiled back. "Though I suppose he wouldn't have told you about that."

"Oh, no, he did. He also told me how he thought of me the entire time and how he threw you out before you could finish your task."

"Is that what he told you?" Ilyana asked, one thin brow arching up towards her hairline. "You know that he's not called the God of Lies for nothing, yes?"

"I'll believe him over the likes of you," Aemilia shrugged.

Ilyana smiled again and eyed the band on Aemilia's arm. "You're amusing, I'll concede that. But he'll tire of you, like he's tired of the others. He's not one to stay satisfied for very long. Or perhaps you've noticed."

"If he does, it still won't be any concern of yours," Aemilia replied. "So I am not sure that I understand the point of this talk."

"I only wanted to see for myself this supposed 'great beauty' who's so entranced the Prince that used to be so much more fun than he is these days. And I still don't see what all the fuss is about."

"Frankly, I could say the same for you," Aemilia replied. "For a woman who's had so many noblemen and caused the disruption of so many marriages, I don't see what makes you so irresistible."

"You wouldn't," Ilyana smiled. "You're but a little girl, far from home, trying to find a place among those whom you think you understand."

"Oh spare me, you foul woman," a voice from behind Aemilia. She turned to see Sif walking purposefully towards them, glaring at Ilyana with a look that had made men tremble in their boots on the battlefield. "Keep your viper's tongue behind your teeth lest one sees fit to cut it out."

Ilyana merely smiled. "Lady Sif! How lovely to see you. Prince Thor always has such lovely things to say about you."

"Out," Sif said sternly, standing at her full height and staring the other woman down and Aemilia almost shrank away herself - Sif could truly be terrifying when the situation called for it. "I'm sure there's no shortage of idiotic men willing to entertain you back in the Hall."

"You shouldn't speak of the future King so poorly," Ilyana said, smiling as she began to walk past them. "Perhaps that's why it was I who 'entertained' him this afternoon and not you."

Then she was gone, and Aemilia looked at Sif with slight sympathy. The woman's words had gotten to her, though Sif was intent on not letting it show.

"Charming woman," Aemilia remarked.

Sif glanced at her, shaking her head slightly. "I believe that she may enjoy taunting the women affected by her exploits more than the exploits themselves."

Aemilia wasn't sure what to say, not wanting to worsen the situation. Sif's affection for Thor was glaringly obvious if one knew to look for it, and the glint in her eye was nearly murderous following Ilyana's words.

"Perhaps she was lying," Aemilia eventually settled with.

Sif shook her head, eyes averted as she replied, "I've smelled her on him all night."

"Then he's as foolish as his brother was," Aemilia replied.

Sif laughed humorlessly. "I fear that all men are nothing but blind fools who occasionally have moments of wisdom."

Aemilia smiled sadly. "Perhaps not all men, but certainly Prince Thor."

Sif looked at her and asked, "Do I not make it clear enough for him? Or does he see and simply not care?"

"I think he's too caught up in himself to notice," Aemilia answered honestly. "But surely he will not always be."

Sif sighed. "You've barely been in our company for two weeks and you see what he has been unable to since we were children."

Aemilia shrugged. "Some truths are easier to see from the outside."

Sif nodded. "That is true. And applies to you and Loki, as well."

"How?"

"I've known him his whole life," Sif said. "I've never once seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you. I've also never seen him look as happy as he has this night. Well... perhaps apart from the time he left me all but bald."

Aemilia laughed. "Thank you for saying so. He's not always easy to read."

"Neither am I, apparently," Sif sighed. "Come along, let's return to the party before I lose the mood entirely."

When they did, they found that a circle had formed around Thor, and as Mjolnir sat at his feet on the floor, men lined up to try their best to lift it. Nobody could, of course, and Loki stood at his side, laughing at all of the hilariously ill-fated attempts.

To add insult to injury, Loki started shocking the attempters with magic when they'd touch the hammer. When that got boring, he turned one of the men into a ferret at the first touch, and all the while Thor roared with laughter at his side. Loki seemed to revel in Thor's appreciative laughs, and Aemilia hadn't realized she'd been staring until Loki's gaze met hers and heat suddenly coursed within her at the memory of what awaited her when the party was over.

His eyes softened as he smiled at her, then darkened with mischief that made her nearly squeak in anticipation as his smile became a smirk.

Sif nudged her side. "See what I mean? Although I'd say he looks a bit more predatory than loving at the moment, but you see my point."

"I do," Aemilia smiled.

She'd take Sif's word over Ilyana's any day.

* * *

He waited until he knew the tension he'd sparked between himself and Aemilia was peaking before he decided that they'd spent long enough at the party. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching the wheels turning frantically in her head, the blush that crept up on her cheeks when their eyes would meet, her anticipation building visibly in her body language. Half the fun of what he'd planned was watching her go crazy waiting for it.

But his own patience began to wear thin, and when it ran out entirely, he vanished as she set out to look for him. He watched her turn this way and that through the crowd, searching for a sign of his whereabouts, and when she stopped and huffed in frustration at the edge of the hall, he grinned and reappeared behind her.

He clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry of surprise as his other arm snaked around her waist and yanked her against him. "I think it's time for the real party, don't you think?"

A blink of an eye later, they were out of the Great Hall and in his chambers. His hand left her mouth and curled painlessly around her throat as he spun her around and slammed her against his door. She squeaked in surprise and looked up at him in slight alarm when she hit the door, but desire quickly overtook her features as he looked upon her like she was a feast and he a starving king.

His hand left her throat and rose to her hair, threading through it as he tilted his head to the side and smirked at her as her chest heaved up and down. "Already gasping for breath and we've yet to even begin."

"I wasn't expecting -"

"Don't speak," he said, his tone dropping low and serious and sensual. "Do not say a word unless I command it."

He watched her pupils dilate with those words, watched her reflexively swallow and nod at him, and he could almost feel the excitement running rampant through her veins.

"I've so enjoyed watching you wrack that brain of yours, trying to figure out what exactly I had in store for you tonight," he said, trailing both of his hands down her shoulders, one continuing down to her wrist, which he grasped, and the other lingering at her arm band. "But... the truth is..." he tapped his fingertips along the gold and it shifted on her skin, then all on its own, slithered down to her wrist as he continued, "I doubt you've come close to even a slightly accurate guess."

Then he swiftly seized both of her wrists and gathered them together over her head, pinning them to the door as the golden band wrapped around her other wrist and then clamped firmly to the door, binding her there. She craned her neck up to look as Loki took half a step back and admired his handiwork.

It was a sight he wanted to remember forever; her, in the dress he'd designed, bound by his multitalented little gift, flushed and looking up at him with anticipation and arousal lighting up her darkening eyes. She was beautiful, elegant, almost ethereal, and _his_.

"Now isn't this familiar? Do you remember the first time I had you bound to this very door?"

She bit her lip as she stared back at him, and he leaned in close, placing his hands on either side of her head on the door. His nose brushed hers and his lips almost touched hers, but he stayed just out of her reach as his voice dropped to a whisper. "Even then I sensed the spirit caged within you. I still sense it now. Even after all this time... all the ways you've given yourself to me, submitted so freely to me... you've still held yourself back."

Delicately, he reached to her hair and lifted his mother's gift from her head, then vanished it safely between his hands. Then he grasped her chin and forced her to look fully up at him as he spoke again. "Tonight I am going to push you further than I ever have before. You will not be freed from your binds until I will it. You will not come until I will it, until you are driven to such desperation that you will shock yourself with what words leave your lips in your frustration and yearning."

His fingertips traced her lips, his other hand still bracing himself on the door, and his voice became a mere whisper as he looked into her wide eyes and said, "I _will_ break you, sweet one. I will take away every last ounce of control you think you have." He trailed tiny, feather-soft kisses along her jaw. "You will beg, you will plead, you will cry for me to end the sweet torture that I will unleash upon you, but I will not grant your wish until you are but pieces of yourself, crumbled in my hand, ready to be put back together, by me and me alone."

He spoke the last words into her ear, and when he drew back to look at her, she was panting and staring at him pleadingly, already straining against her bonds, desperate to be closer to him.

"Are you ready to begin, Aemilia?" he asked, and she nodded so hard and quickly that he almost laughed. "There is something else I must tell you first. Tonight, you must ask me for what you desire. I will do anything you wish, but only if you say the words first, and only if I deem them satisfying."

Now, even more than before, she blushed a furious shade of red. He fought hard not to smirk.

This was going to be exquisite. "Do you understand?"

Despite her blush, despite everything, she nodded. He smiled and trailed his finger along her jaw. "Then you may speak. What will you have me do first?"

Her words were a strangled choke from the depths of her throat. "Kiss me, please, kiss me."

* * *

Her heart was pounding, her limbs shaking, her entire body trembling, and there was already a painful throbbing between her legs, and all he'd really done so far was slam her against a door and speak. Not that those things weren't more than enough.

Her words had caused him to raise an eyebrow and inch closer as he asked for clarification. "And how would you like me to kiss you?"

"Hard," she whispered, and he complied instantly. Her head bounced back against the door with the force of his ravaging kiss, and her hands strained against her bonds, needing to feel his hair between her fingers, but all she did was cause a sharp pain in her wrists.

His tongue and lips and teeth were insistent, not a trace of gentleness as he pillaged her mouth, but it wasn't enough.

"Harder," she managed to gasp against his lips, and he responded by growling and grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking her head back and fulfilling her wish. She arched against him, though it barely got her any closer to him, and her dress suddenly felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.

"My dress," she panted when he stopped for a breath, "take off my dress."

It was gone with a wave of his hand, and then he was pressed against her, shocking her with the sensation of the cool metal of his armor against her heated skin. For a moment she almost asked him to take it off, but then she realized how stunningly erotic it was to be in this position with him in his full Princely armor and cape. He was definitely keeping it all on, if she had a say in the matter.

His lips had drifted to her neck, and they were kissing her there with equal fervor as with her mouth, leaving a multitude of marks for later, and his fingertips were digging into her hips as they pulled her closer against him. She tried to grind against his hardness, looking for any kind of friction she could get, but the way he held her thwarted her efforts.

"Do you ache for me?" he asked, trailing the tip of his tongue over her rapid little pulse as the hand not buried in her hair trailed down her neck, over her collarbone to her breast.

"Yes," she moaned, nails biting into the palms of her fisted hands as he kissed down her chest, mouth enclosing over a nipple while his thumb mimicked his tongue's movements on her other. She slammed her head back against the door, her need bordering on excruciating, but she knew it would only get worse from here.

"Do you crave more?"

The vibrations of his voice on her sensitive skin was almost too much. "Yes!"

"Then say it," he murmured, trailing his lips up slowly as his hand descended lower, to the soft skin of her belly. "Tell me what you want."

"Anything," she panted.

He bit her shoulder sharply in reply. She yelped at the unexpectedly painful sensation, though it only served to heighten her already unbearable tension.

"Not good enough," he said, soothing the bite with his tongue. "Tell me what you want."

She groaned in frustration, squirming as she tried to make herself say the words. His hand trailed below her belly, brushing teasingly between her thighs before quickly retreating, to her frustration.

"I... please..."

He kissed her, then leaned his forehead against hers and said, "Please what, Aemilia?"

"Your hand, just - touch me," she squeaked out, and she was immediately granted her wish. He kissed her hard and fast and set his fingers to her, stroking her slowly and lightly, a contradiction she didn't really want.

She rocked against his hand, and wrenched her lips away from his after a moment to whine, "More, faster."

This time, he chuckled and started dragging his lips towards her ear, all while his fingers worked languidly. "Now that, I cannot do. Remember... you choose your pleasure, but I, and I alone, control it."

She made another sound of frustration, and his voice reverberated against her skin as he grazed his teeth along the side of her neck. "Did you think this would be easy, little one? Did you think I would give in so early to your little pleas? I told you that I would break you... did you not think me serious?"

Her lips parted as he slid a lone finger within her, now pointedly ignoring the aching nerves she most needed him to touch, and he watched her in delight as she squirmed in futility.

"Is this not enough for you?" he asked, finger in the midst of a casual, teasing massage that only left her needing so much more. "Would you rather it was my tongue giving you pleasure instead of my hand? Or would you prefer both?"

His finger curled and she let out a choked little moan, nodding rapidly.

"Then ask for it."

His finger left her then, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. His lips descended on hers and kissed her harshly for a moment, until he drew away by an inch and whispered huskily against her lips, "You deny my pleasure as much as you deny your own with your silence."

"I..." She wracked her brain trying to come up with a way to ask for it, pushing away vulgarities too foreign on her tongue to be uttered. She whispered helplessly as words she hoped were good enough tumbled out of her mouth. "Please... taste me."

To her relief, he did seem to think they were good enough, because he groaned and immediately dropped down to one knee before her. Her legs were shaking as he took her left one and bent it with his hand under her knee, kissing the inside of it as he draped the leg over his shoulder. She looked down and watched as he kissed a torturous, slow line up to her thigh, almost choking in delight at the way this Prince, in all of his royal garb apart from his helm, was knelt before her, cape pooling on the floor behind him.

But delight turned quickly to frustration as he took his time kissing his way up her inner thigh, only to switch to the other one to give it equal attention, again ignoring her most urgent needs. Her wrists ached, her arms were numb, and her lip was bleeding slightly from how deeply she was biting into it to jerk from screaming at him to stop teasing her. But then, maybe that was what he wanted.

"Loki..."

A purring sound as he licked a line up her thigh was her only acknowledgment, closed-eyed and focused.

"Please don't tease me anymore."

"I don't mean to tease," he replied, shifting on his knee so that he was closer to her. His hand adjusted the leg on his shoulder, spreading it outwards as he leaned forward and nuzzled her. "I mean to torture."

She groaned at his words and then gasped at his first kiss, so light that it was little more than a tickle. Then there was the fleeting warmth of his tongue, gone as soon as it had come, and a series of little kisses that did nothing to ease her aching but only enhanced it.

Broken words fell from her lips, and after only a moment of maliciously teasing touches of his tongue and lips, her eyes were squeezed shut and she was vaguely aware of moisture rolling down from them. She whispered a ragged plea, thinking it would surely be in vain, then cried out when he listened and suddenly set to her with a passion, growling low in his throat as he did.

There was no holding back, no more teasing, and she arched and struggled against the bonds with a force unlike any before. His hands on her hips held her fast to the door despite her wriggling, and before she had a chance to truly savor his expert attentions, she tensed and felt herself teetering on the edge.

He stopped immediately, almost harshly, and looked up at her with a smirk. "Not until I say."

If she'd had use of her hands, she might have throttled him. Instead, she curled them into tighter fists and then moaned again when he returned his mouth to her, this time joined by two fingers inside of her to further add to her torture.

This time she fought the pleasure, sure that she wouldn't be able to handle it if he didn't let her reach her peak again. But her efforts were in vain, and there was no fighting the ball of tension coiling within her again, desperate to snap, so close to exploding in a storm of stars behind her eyes when he again stopped and withdrew from her completely.

"Bastard," she gasped, clenching her eyes shut as he sat back and enjoyed the view of her breasts heaving up and down as she panted exhaustively.

He grinned. "Do you think cursing me will earn my mercy?"

She shook her head, still keeping her eyes closed as her body trembled all over. "Just... just... please..."

"Look at me," he admonished, and she opened her eyes to him instantly. "What do you want?"

She ached all over. Her arms were in pain, her legs were shaking, but the ache between her legs was impossibly terrible, a kind like she'd never felt before this moment. She felt empty, desperate to be filled, and her answer was a half-yell, half-whine. "You."

Slowly, and with a chuckle, he rose from his knee, sliding his lips along her upper body as he went. His hand toyed with a breast as he stood at his full height, smirking down at her as he said, "Me? That's a very broad answer, Aemilia."

"You know what I mean," she grumbled, breath hitching as his fingers tortured her nipple.

"I'm afraid I don't. You'll have to be more... _specific_."

So distracted she'd been by his words and one of his hands that she hadn't noticed his other sliding between them and releasing himself. She only realized what he'd done when she felt smooth hardness resting against her thigh, and her ache grew to impossible new heights.

"Tell me, and anything you wish will be yours," he murmured into her ear, grinding slightly against her.

She panted, mind going blank, and then she felt a slight rocking motion between them. She opened her eyes - she kept closing them without realizing - and looked down only to see his hand wrapped around his own length, moving along it slowly, while he breathed hotly against her ear.

She stared shamelessly.

"Tell me, Aemilia," he growled. "I need you as badly as you need me. Say it and I'll end this torture."

"T-take me," she stammered out. He released his hold on himself and then grabbed her, lifting her up and winding her legs around his hips, and she almost sighed in relief. But relief was still not at hand.

"You can do better than that," he said, holding her to him with one arm while the other hand lifted her chin. "Say it. You know what I wish to hear."

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She stared up at him, seeing the desperation in his own eyes as the tip of his length grazed her entrance - one push and he'd be inside of her, but he held impossibly still.

She knew what he wanted her to say. Her cheeks blushed red and she couldn't form a single word.

"I... I don't think I can, please -"

A sharp, stinging slap to the outside of her thigh cut her off and made her yelp in shock. She looked up and lost her breath at the animalistic glint in his eyes, and she realized then that he had tortured himself as much as he'd tortured her.

"Say it," he hissed lowly, demanding, dangerous.

Something in his slap had changed things, and it took her a moment to realize exactly how. If she had been burning before, now she was positively in the middle of a raging inferno.

She shook her head. "I can't."

Another slap, to the same spot as the first time, harder now. Instead of yelping, this time she moaned, and he looked at her in delighted, delicious surprise. His head tilted and his own breath became shaky as she rolled her hips against him, almost making him forget what he was pushing her to do.

"Say it, you wanton little vixen," he hissed, placing his forehead to hers as he all but spat out his next words. "Let your words match your vulgar mind. Beg me to _fuck_ you."

She'd never heard that word leave his lips before, and the harsh way that he said it made her ache even more for him.

But she still said nothing.

"Come on," he growled, delivering another slap, this time to her other thigh. She bit back her moan this time, but there was no hiding how much she liked it. She knew he felt the way her thighs squeezed tighter around him, the way she ground involuntarily against him in response. She also knew that he enjoyed her enjoyment more than his words could express.

Then he pinned her tightly to the wall with his body, freeing the arm that had been holding her up, and his hand slid over her throat as his other soothed over her thigh. "You never fail to surprise me, Aemilia," he said, barely above a whisper. "What a wild, deviant spirit lurks beneath such an innocent exterior..."

One more slap, the hardest one yet, and she almost came undone right then. He was so close to sliding inside of her, just one little tiny push and he'd he where she needed him, but she knew she wouldn't get it, not until she gave him what he demanded.

"Now surprise me one more time," he said into her ear, tongue flicking underneath it between sentences. "Let me hear the words leave your mouth."

He delivered one final slap, and he growled one final word. "_Now_."

And then she broke. "Fuck me! Please, _please_, Loki, fuck me!"

It felt like someone else's voice had left her mouth, and she was so far beyond blushing that she feared she'd combust into flames instead, but then Loki all but snarled her name as he drove into her with such force it was a wonder he didn't break the door. She gasped, moaned, even shrieked in relief and delight, begging him to take her even harder and he did, his own uncontrollable sounds mingling with hers and giving away fully just how desperate he'd been.

He licked, bit, and sucked at her neck as he pounded her to the door, and only when she opened her eyes and saw her arms around his neck did she realize he'd released her from her bonds. The arm band was back around her upper arm, in its original form, and her arms were tingling with the renewed bloodflow within them. She dragged her nails into his hair and pulled, making him groan and suddenly clutch her even tighter as he spun them away from the door.

They knocked over a lit lantern in the process. It hit his floor and the flames slowly spread to a dark green cloth covering a table. They didn't notice.

She didn't know where he'd intended to take them at first, but once she wrenched her lips away from his to give his neck a bite of her own and gripped two handfuls of his hair in a painful tug, he had her on her back in the middle of the floor before she could so much as breathe.

The torture, the waiting, and the words exchanged between them had taken the sensations to new heights, and she could not think or speak or breathe as he took her savagely on the floor. She only wanted him more, harder, faster, regardless of the bruises he'd be leaving in his wake.

The first time she began tensing and clenching around him, his voice cut through the haze of her mind. "Not yet."

She could have cried in frustration. How was she supposed to fight it?

"I... Loki, I..."

"Wait for me," he said, kissing her lips, and his command was unexpectedly soft. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

She wanted to say no, wanted to take her well-earned pleasure and then collapse in a heap and not move for several days, but she could not.

He didn't help her when his mouth trailed wet kisses down her chest, and the added pleasure of his tongue tracing her breast sent her spiraling, clenching around him again.

"Not yet," he moaned through gritted teeth.

The sound of frustration that left her lips sounded unnatural to her ears, even more so than the new curse he'd forced her to say only moments ago as it came flying out of her mouth a second time.

He really had broken her.

Then his lips returned to hers, and she could have wept in relief when he finally groaned against her mouth. "Now, Aemilia, now."

It felt as if her entire body was imploding all around her, like she was tearing apart from the inside out in a blinding burst of the single most powerful pleasure she'd ever felt before in her life. She didn't register her own scream, didn't hear Loki's accompanying cry as he emptied himself within her, didn't smell the smoke that was slowly filling his room from the growing fire on the other side of it. She knew only what it felt like to soar carelessly as she indeed broke apart in pieces into her Prince's metaphorical hands.

She would have been content to fall asleep on the floor, underneath the limp weight of Loki's still-fully-clothed body. She knew he had no intention of moving either.

But then there were shouts on the other side of his door and frantic knocks. She opened her terribly heavy, glazed eyes and widened them when she saw the smoke filling the room.

"Loki."

He didn't move. He appeared to be already asleep, or at least very close to it.

She hurriedly shook him. "Loki! Your room is on fire!"

He jarred awake at that, right at the same moment that his door burst open and two guards came hurtling inside.

Aemilia gaped in shock and scrambled to cover herself when she saw her ex-fiancé, of all the possible guards who could have rushed in, standing in the doorway and staring not at the growing fire but at her. Loki cursed and quickly conjured a dress to her body, while he fixed his own clothes, but she was already past the point of humiliation.

"We saw smoke and... heard... screaming," Dagr said dumbly as the other guard set about actually putting out the fire, as he should have been doing.

"How exciting to hear," Loki snapped, getting to his feet and conjuring a jug of water in his hands. "Now would you terribly mind putting out the fire rather than standing there staring like the idiot you are?"

Dagr seemed to snap out of it then, but Aemilia didn't move from the floor. Something wasn't right.

He said he'd heard screaming. But Loki always cast a spell to soundproof his room, without fail. It wasn't something he ever forgot.

And for Dagr to have been the first to burst into his room, it meant he had to be currently stationed nearby, down the hall.

She watched with narrowed eyes as Loki tossed water on the fire and then moved across the room to open the doors to his balcony, letting the smoke air out. She then slowly got up, leaning against the closest wall with crossed arms as she waited for the fire to be put out.

It didn't take long, as it was a rather small fire, though it had been a swiftly growing one. Once it was done, she stared at the floor to avoid anymore awkward eye contact with Dagr.

When he and the other guard had left, and the door was shut behind them, Aemilia looked up and glared at Loki as he repaired the damage left by the fire with a few swipes of his hand.

When he felt her hard gaze and turned to look at her, he merely smirked in response. "What troubles you, Aemilia?"

"You wanted him to hear me, didn't you?"

He looked so innocent that she knew he was guilty. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

She didn't expect to feel tears prickling at her eyes. But she was still trembling slightly for two very different reasons, one because she was still recovering from one of the most intense experiences of her life, and the other because she'd also never felt such stinging humiliation.

Rationally, she knew that Loki had not meant to start a fire, surely, and the fire had been to blame for Dagr's intrusion. But even without the fire, Dagr still would have heard her, and those sounds and words were not meant for anyone but the man standing in front of her now, still looking so innocent that she could have slapped him.

She knew he was possessive and could be cruel. That he'd want to rub their relationship in Dagr's face was no surprise. But this was taking it much too far.

She gritted her teeth. "I'm sleeping in my room tonight."

"What?"

She moved for the door, ignoring him, but he appeared in front of her and snatched her wrist. She yanked it away. "Am I a fool to trust you as I do?" she asked, tears that she still didn't understand threatening to spill over. "How could you do that? Did you not know that I'd be humiliated when I found out? Or did you think I never would?"

She watched his eyes flicker then, and his lips pursed slightly. She thought she might have seen slight guilt somewhere in his eyes, as if he'd never thought about her reaction at all, and that may have been what hurt the most.

When he spoke, his tone was soothing and sincere. "Aemilia... I didn't -"

"Don't," she shook her head, side stepping him and making for the door again. "I want to be alone."

He didn't try to stop her that time, and she stomped out of his room and slammed the door behind her with a thud. She walked the long way to her room, to avoid walking past Dagr, and even though she felt ridiculous for crying, she let the stubborn tears flow anyway.

One thing she knew for sure; one way or another, she'd get Loki back for what he'd done.

**A/N: So. Yeah. *clears throat* hope everyone's ok with that smut... because I think I had more fun writing that scene than any other scene ever before. It. Was. Fun. :p And Aemilia's definitely going to be getting her revenge on Loki next chapter, so even more fun ahead! Mwahaha! And plot too, of course, and in fact something rather major is happening very soon that I'm excited to write. Thank you everyone for your reviews, faves, alerts, messages, and general awesomeness :D Also big BIG thanks to midnightwings96 for helping me out with SO MUCH in this chapter, and every chapter, but especially this chapter. Hope you guys liked this horrendously long chapter as much as I liked writing it! Also - I've got a new bonus chapter for you all tonight! :))) It's called Goddess of Mischief, and it is the weirdest thing I've ever written, so hop on over to my profile and give it a read :D Thanks again to all of you, lots and lots of love :D **


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